


Twisted Fibre

by Violetlyvanilla



Category: Supernatural
Genre: All deaths are temporary in this verse ;), Assassin Dean, BAMF Cas, Body Swap, Buddy Cops, Changing Bodies, Clones, Complete, Destiel - Freeform, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Exorcist Cas, Law Enforcement AU, Longevity/Immortality, M/M, Mystery, Policeman Cas, Sci-Fi, altered carbon au, too much plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-04-24 04:15:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 57,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14347767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violetlyvanilla/pseuds/Violetlyvanilla
Summary: Castiel is a police officer who always worked alone. So why was Dean Winchester, an envoy who had just awakened from multiple prison sentences, suddenly Castiel’s partner? The body Dean inhabits is everything Castiel had ever wanted and if they can solve the murder of an influential client, Dean might just keep it forever. Castiel is not sure how he feels about that, or if they would survive long enough to find out.





	1. Soul Of Fibre

**Author's Note:**

> This is a complete fic. The AU is based on ideas from Altered Carbon and so the plot does get rather complex. Any feedback and guidance on the story would be much appreciated. 
> 
> Tumblr: violetlyvanilla 
> 
> Though I think it might be fun to guess what some of the sci-fi terminology means in this univers there is an index in the chapter end notes to explain some of the phrases used that aren’t explicitly elaborated in the fic. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Texas PD was built in the mid-strata, right in the heart of the metropolis, a nondescript glass box crammed between the judicial and medical precincts. Wednesday nights were a busy time for any city police force, everyone was trying to forget about their shitty lives and party it up a little before everything gets back to family and pretending to be normal on the Thursday. Letting loose usually involved trying the latest synths or riding an attractive vessel or riding someone else in such a vessel. Of course for the pious the night of Angel's Eve was all about spending time with loved ones, repenting. Castiel was not religious and he had no family, so he always asked Bobby for the weekend shift. The extra stipend being automatically paid into his vessel mortgage might mean an upgrade before Castiel hit his eighties. Or so he hoped. 

Castiel was the department's only E&P specialist and he worked alone. What Castiel didn't know about vessel design, incompatibility paradoxes, gracification and demonisation was probably not worth knowing. His training had mostly been acquired on the job, he had a good instinct for people who were out of place, who didn't fit in right. Occasionally, Castiel would hear someone like Charlie talk about how being weird and awkward made Castiel good at spotting those who were dark and twisted. Though he didn't mind hearing that sort of thing from Charlie, since from her, it was pretty much a compliment. Balthazar and Gabriel in Fornication was a different story. Castiel was glad they were entrapping down in District 99 and out of his hair. 

After working on the Lucifer files for a few hours, Castiel pushed out of his chair, causing a pained gasp to erupt behind him as the wheel of his chair skidded over someone. Hanscum and Mills were standing right there with a pink faced young man who was bent over and holding a foot. Castiel sighed at the sight of black robes and starched white collar, did he even pass undercover 101? This guy looked like this was his first night out of the Missionary. 

"Nice to meet you, Sir, my name is ..." 

"I'm busy," Castiel pushed past the cadet, only slowing down to tersely address Mills. "Tell Bobby I'll file a formal complaint, I already said no to the mentee program." 

"Novak, he's your new partner," Mills replied calmly. She was a pretty faced and stern eyed Synths officer who Castiel quietly respected. 

Her partner Hanscum threw Castiel a charming smile. He tried not to offend her, she was the only one in the station who could get the coffee machines to work. 

"Send him back," Castiel shook his head as he grabbed his coat. "This isn't any district, Lucifer thrives here, he'll be dead before he solves his first case. I don't want him." 

"You never want anyone, Castiel, and that's your weakness," Hanscum followed him down the corridor, one hand attached to the trainee's wrist to drag him along. "He looks young but his scores were off the charts. He's good! A natural just like you. Maybe better than you!" 

"No," Castiel marched through the chaotic office, officers and administrators parting as he charged through them. "I have to go, there's been a postal error." 

A woman holding deliveries jumped back from Castiel's flapping coat tail as he marched past. He paused, sighed and turned.

"I don't have anything for you, officer," she looked down at her tablet in confusion. 

"No, you don't," Castiel said in a gentle voice and placed his hand on her forehead. Her eyes lit up instantly, the people in the office taking a couple of steps back to stay out of the way of the data rays. 

She was down on the ground within seconds, her vessel collapsed in a heap. Castiel bowed his head and prayed briefly. The citation of the prayer activated the data stream and he logged her needle cast number. Charlie came online in Castiel's audio-feed. 

"You couldn't file a warrant first?" She asked. 

"When was the last time I preemptively did any paperwork?" Castiel said, resuming his bid to get out of the building fast, a team of Synthetic cleaners came out of the elevator. "Thanks Charlie."

"If it weren't for me tidying up your loose ends Cas, you'd be suspended and there'd be piles of bodies everywhere you went. This Jack Kline could be useful for you, you need an assistant if not a partner." 

"You know what I need is to have stern words with my postman," Castiel said. "Why can't all AIs be as efficient as you?" 

"Because I'm Queen Charlie." And with that she disappeared from his audio-feed. 

* * * 

Jack, the E&P cadet, sighed. Hunching his shoulders and lowering his large, hypnotically blue eyes he said: "I came top of my class for everything to get first pick of him." 

Hanscum smothered a mothering noise from her mouth and pasted on her best professional stare. She elbowed Mills. "Help him out." 

Mills pointed at Castiel's desk where the display was flashing red with unread messages. "How about you sit here in Novak's chair and start sorting through his backlog, when he comes back, he might forget he didn't want you here." 

"Coffee, he likes coffee," Hanscum said kindly. "You could try giving him coffee. I'll load up your id card with access codes for all the machines on this level. Also, Castiel is notorious for exorcising on the fly and filing in his warrants late. So if you talk to Charlie, our police department AI, she can show you how to fix up his paper trail. Cas might just find you indispensable after a while." 

"I won't give up, I will data entry every day and cross copy all his forms. Till he notices me." Jack nodded solemnly. "Thank you both for your kindness." 

The Missionary might not have trained Jack very much in the ways of the world, but Castiel's database was full of terminology he was familiar with and problems he could readily solve. Quickly, Jack was absorbed in Castiel's case studies of entangled family histories and the tell tale signs of illegal possession. Finding Castiel and attaining a spot by his side was the right path, Jack decided, it had been worth all the years of looking up to the man to behold the treasure trove of solid and somewhat eccentric police work Castiel was accomplishing. 

Also he tried out the access code for the coffee machine. Coffee was utterly amazing, no wonder Castiel liked it. 

* * * 

Castiel was fast running out of patience. The tingle in his right palm could possibly only be soothed by the cool touch of an angel blade, though of course he would never dream of threatening another government officer with an E&P special class weapon over something as trivial as this. 

"I told you, I didn't get the delivery. I didn’t get the delivery because I did not order the download. The first I heard that my vessel was gone is when I received an alert that it was animated and moving. Though of course, like I said, I never authorised a download. Now you are reassuring me that 'everything is in order' when clearly it is not," Castiel said tersely. "I want to see my vessel." 

The Vault AI on the customer interface gave Castiel a flood of information which boiled down to 'but Sir, he's been delivered'. 

"I didn't sign for him so he's still in your storage," Castiel reiterated. "Do I need to file for a misdelivery? I do need to inform you that I am a police officer, so I can also call in a theft." 

The reply was an visual feed from Vault Central with a unique serial number and a GPS tracking signal that lingered in the order of Castiel’s vision. 

Castiel glared at the AI as he cross referenced the serial number on his visual input. Sure enough the body he had spent years designing, the one he had saved for almost a decade to create, was no longer in the Vault. It was currently walking about, sentient. Who the fuck did they put in there? 

"I will be leaving a very terse review," Castiel informed the Vault AI. "This sort of ad hoc downloading error is just plain ... unhygienic. I expect to be reimbursed for my costs and time in tracking down my custom vessel. And I also need to speak to your head of security immediately, that man who was looking at me before." 

"Customer complaints are not handled by our security officers," the Vault AI began to say but Castiel flashed his badge discreetly. 

The man with a sallow face and a broad build sauntered up to Castiel, eyes assessing. "Kevin said you wanted to see me? How can I help?" 

Castiel rolled his eyes. All the AIs, the bigger and more complex their programming, the more high ranking their duties, loved to give themselves friendly human names. Better for customer integration apparently. Kevin was in charge of thousands of branches of the Vault on Earth with hundreds of thousands of vessels under his care. 

"I have a receipt for you," Castiel said. "It has also been sent to the visual feed of the next of kin on your file." 

Then he grabbed the head of the security personnel and activated his palm data disruptor. This guy was a lot more far gone than the delivery woman back at the station. His eyes flashed black then went back to murky grey. Great, it was a demonisation. Castiel did not have time for this! 

The guard started to struggle with all his vessel's impressive might. He outweighed Castiel two to one but Castiel was fast and vicious with his take down. When the guard went for his own weapon, Castiel produced his angel blade and quickly shoved it into the spinal cortex. The vessel slumped and Kevin came online again. 

"Ugh, thank you?" The AI said. "I saw his eyes on the security camera. Demonisation huh. That's weird, I saw the police station clocked up a gracification this morning. Is it normal to have to do some many exorcisms in one day, officer Novak?"

"What's normal on Old Earth?" Castiel asked rhetorically, stowing away his weapon and straightening his coat. "Just tell me he casted out before I had to take out his stack? Charlie will be on my ass if he final deathed. My warrant queue isn't exactly up to date."

"He did," Kevin said in a reassuring voice. "And his insurance will pay for full data recovery. His family will be grateful." 

"Don't mention it," Castiel said. 

"Well Sir, thank you for your service," Kevin was so thankful he went into hologram mode and trailed Castiel on the way out of the Vault branch. "I will certainly keep an eye on your customer enquiry regarding the stray vessel. Please use the tracking signal I provided to find him. As a gesture of goodwill for being such a helpful customer, would you like a 0.5% coupon for your next vessel purchase?" 

"You think a government employee can afford more than one vessel, the way you guys have the market cornered?" Castiel said challengingly. 

Kevin just smiled, his dealing with grumpy customers software was state of the art. 

"Yes, I would love a coupon," Castiel said begrudgingly and walked out. 0.5% was equivalent to 6 months of vessel mortgage and he couldn't afford to turn that down when the one and only vessel he ever invested in was running loose out there. 

* * * 

There was of course only one location to look for all newly downloaded vessels, the hosptial precinct. Using his police vehicle with the sirens broadcasting, Castiel made it there within minutes. He parked in the ambulance bay and followed the tracker to patient discharge only to be told that the vessel had signed itself out. 

"How does a vessel, mortgaged and paid for, walk out the door?" Castiel demanded. 

The nurse dug deeper into the records. 

"It shouldn’t have been discharged. It was only downloaded fourty minutes ago." 

"With what? Who?" Castiel frowned. "I'm still in my organic body so I know I'm not in there."

The nurse looked at Castiel skeptically. "Well, Sir, even if double dipping isn't strictly in accordance with the law, some people do break the rules." 

Castiel flashed his badge in reply. The nurse tapped ever faster on his tablet. 

"Sorry detective, I didn't realise you’re law enforcement. Okay, this is weird. There's been an incident with the vessel, the customer who downloaded into it, he woke up screaming." 

"Great, some maniac has hijacked my body," Castiel said coldly. "And he managed to animate a vessel within and hour of downloading." 

The nurse paled a little as he looked through the records. "Actually, he animated in under two minutes. One minute sixteen seconds to be more precise. Sorry, the file must be corrupt that's not ..." 

"That's not possible, who is this guy?" 

"I do have that data," the nurse seemed glad to finally get an easy to answer question. "Do you know someone called 'Dean Winchester'?"

Castiel blinked slowly. 

* * * 

"Dean Winchester is an envoy," Charlie explained on Castiel's audio feed as the E&P specialist scoured the metro district with a DNA sensor. Police vehicles were permitted to fly high above the traffic stream to get optimal vantage for scanners. 

The cloud cover was high and the pollution was, as always, messing with the readings. So this was going to take way too long and in the meantime, Castiel's very expensive, whole life's savings worth of investment, was just out there. Anything could happen to the vessel, if some idiot was driving it. It could be taking Synths, kidnapped for parts or worse coming into contact with contaminated vessels and picking up costly diseases. If the vessel got damaged, Castiel's insurance might not cover it given that it was not strictly speaking under his custody. It would just get dumped rather than repaired. Castiel had seen the visualisation of the vessel when he signed the mortgage, the hologram held still for inspection and was lacklustre compared to the solid meaty reality of an actual vessel, but still he had fallen in love with it. It was sheer perfection down to every freckle and every hair and he could only imagine it warm and mobile. Castiel had been so taken by the product shots that the sales representative from the Vault had asked him if he might be interest in a Synthetic model for 'companionship'. It could be quickly and cheaply built, cost only a couple months salary and come preloaded with free rudimentary pleasure software. Castiel had been offended by the pamphlet thrust into his face. He didn't want a vessel, empty of a soul, for a lover. Some people did and that was their choice but Castiel was old fashioned. He had to be in his line of work. He saw too many vessels reduced to piles of inanimate flesh, he really did believe in protecting the code, the twisted fibre of each individual soul preserved by the data stream, flying free towards their needlecast destinations, returning to their loved ones in a new sleeve or carrying on off world in a whole new life. Castiel might not have been religious despite his vocation in exorcisms and possessions, but he did believe in his duty as a sworn protector of the integrity of souls. 

Envoys were the most resilient of souls. 

They were also scumbags.

"I haven't heard of that one. To be honest I didn't realise we even had any left on Earth." Castiel sighed. "Tell me he's likely to surrender my vessel?" 

"I've looked up his file," Charlie replied. "And it is a doozy, mostly classified, some very weird coding that looks like tampering. He fought in every major war in the last three hundred years, in between he rested in storage." 

"How long was he in storage, in total?" 

"250 years, could be longer there was a data wipe during the Lucifer Rising." 

Castiel let out a low whistle, that was some serious criminality to get three lifetimes of digital prison time. 

"How old is he, subjectively?" 

"Almost 40, like you." 

"My years are all organic, I've never been stored," Castiel said, a little righteously. "I hate when they've been stored for too long. 250 is almost an Angel, an Arch even. Tell me how to take him down." 

"His strengths are weaponry, team creation, enlisting of local forces, hand to hand combat and survival."

Castiel waited for Charlie to continue. "Well, weaknesses?" 

"Unknown." Charlie said flippantly. 

It was just Castiel's luck that the soul hijacking his vessel was a fucking envoy. Those guys belonged in the museum. 

* * * 

It was dark by the time the sensors finally found the vessel. Its DNA trace was picked up near a street market. Castiel dumped the cruiser in the nearest roof dock and raced towards his target. 

It was weird watching the body he was supposed to be in walk around. Even from a distance the vessel was strangely familiar in it's stature and proportions. Castiel had spent many nights carving out it's form using a neuroscalpel and mindclay, but in motion it still took his breath away. It wasn't so much the perfection of its form, though Castiel admitted he had been somewhat vain in designing the vessel to be slightly taller than his organic body and from what he remembered the face was objectively handsome. It was too dark to see the features right there and then. The thing about the vessel was that it was imperfect and those imperfections made it beautiful.

For example, the gait of the vessel was slightly off kilter, the knees a little too far apart. Castiel watched the familiar shape of back and waist and legs move away from him, full of imperfect, fluid grace. He didn't know why he had in-built so many flaws into a custom vessel, only that it had felt right to design it so. The vessel paused at a roadside food stall and looked at the plethora of offerings with delight. Castiel narrowed his eyes as he finally got a good look at the face. It was like looking at a memory, he couldn't stop staring even if it gave away his interest. 

"What do you think you're doing?" The vessel turned as if sensing Castiel's stare. 

Castiel stepped out of the shadows, tipping his head to the side to study the vessel in the moonlight. The face, animated by breath, was a sculpted artwork. The patches of freckles glowing lavender in the dim surrounds, the eyes luxuriantly fringed by lashes, were a soft green. Castiel almost laughed at how shockingly beautiful the vessel looked, what had he been thinking making something so aesthetically unrealistic? He looked like some gorgeous Synthetic that Balthazar and Gabriel would bust down in the Dumping District, except he didn't have all the makeup and glitter that the street models liked to wear. There was also some visible flaws on his face, laugh lines and uneven stubble, which strangely added to his appeal for Castiel. 

"Inspecting my possession," Castiel replied with false calmness. 

The envoy wore an astounded expression as he saw Castiel in the light of the street lamp. The vessel's mouth parted on a gasp, bowed and full lips arching in shock, eyes wide and ecstatic. "Cas!" 

Then he moved with impossible speed, wrapping his arms around Castiel before the police officer could even reach for his weapon. With an effort, Castiel slipped out of the bearhug and stuck his hand inside his trench coat, grasping his blade reflexively. He was panting from the close call, if the envoy had gone for an attack rather than a hug, Castiel would have been caught out. 

"You don't know me," Castiel said. "There's no need for your envoy tricks, I know who you are Dean Winchester." 

"Envoy? What? Cas, it's all weird, I woke up and I'm in the future. There are flying cars everywhere and this food is not how hotdogs should be. I'm so glad you're here. So what is this, time travel? Trickster? Where's Sam?" 

Nothing that Dean was saying made any sense, so his coding was probably glitching. The security on the Vault vessels were state of the art so if Dean did rogue his way in he probably got a little scrambled, envoy or not. 

"Are you experiencing a sense of temporal displacement?" Castiel asked, his hand leaving his weapon. "Do you feel confused?"

"I got no idea what's going on." 

"You have just downloaded into a vessel this morning, your mind is adjusting to the psychic shock of a new body," Castiel explained, citing lines from the vessel induction handbook from memory. "You are not yourself. Your code will organise and reprogram automatically, you should feel better after some sleep." 

"What new body?" Dean asked, his hand was placed on Castiel's shoulder with casual familiarity. How did this envoy encroach on Castiel's personal space so easily? Usually his body tensed as soon as anyone came near, his training demanded such precautionary instincts. 

Castiel studied the hand on his shoulder, noting with interest the blunt shape of the nails and the strength in the wrist. This was a hand well known to Castiel, it had taken months to get it looking just how he wanted it to. 

"I created your body, down to the very minute details, I dreamed of you," Castiel said, his chest felt unaccountably heavy as he said the words. 

Dean looked confused. "You getting romantic on me buddy?" 

No wonder artists talked about losing their work once something was created. There was a sense of wholeness to the vessel now and it was hard to think of it as his, it was easier to think of him as 'Dean'. Castiel shook his head, maybe it was the shock of looking at something he had wanted for so long in the flesh, he was full of unwanted sentimentality. 

Castiel took a step forward and seized the hand on his shoulder. The cuffs slid on without a glitch and Dean reacted with surprise. "Whoa, cowboy." 

"Hospital or the Station?" 

"Cas, you seriously don't know who I am?" 

"I personally recommend a head scan first." 

"No, you need a head scan." 

"I'm not here to argue, you're under arrest." 

"For what?" 

"Illegal possession of a vessel, a vessel mortgaged by an E&P specialst no less." 

"I don't know what that is, Cas." 

"My name is Castiel Novak and E&P stands for Exorcism and Possession." 

"Yeah, okay, I totally understand now," Dean rolled his eyes. "Not." 

Castiel tugged and shoved Dean in the direction of his vehicle. Dean went silent when he saw the police car. 

"Fuck," Dean said. "Maybe this is a dream." 

The door hatch flew up when it sensed Castiel's proximity. 

"Huh," Dean's cheeks reddened. "I mean the last time I dreamt of a flying car and you, we ..." 

Castiel placed his hand over Dean's head and pushed him in. The implant in his palm glowed upon contact with Dean's skull. 

"You trying to exorcise me?" Dean asked. Castiel wondered how scrambled his code really was, he’d just said a minute ago that he didn’t know what exorcism was. 

"It's just software, automatic response, you'll know when I'm exorcising you." Castiel said as he climbed into the driver's seat. 

"You gonna loosen the cuffs?" Dean asked. 

Castiel placed his hands on the wheel in reply, Dean was dragged almost into his lap. 

"Fine, almost like I'm driving a flying car," Dean huffed. 

“Charlie, you there?” Castiel dialed the police department AI on his audio feed. “I go him.” 

“No you don’t, in fact I am now entering encryption mode.”

Cas paused, his foot easing off the accelerator. “What are you doing?” 

A hologram of Charlie appeared on the dashboard. Her chosen form was that of a pretty, elfin faced young woman with long red hair. She hailed them with a Vulcan salute. “Saving your asses, bitches.” 

Charlie really loved to push her human personification and she was one of the most successful AIs at it that Castiel had ever met. Her spontaneous dialogue and micro-facial expressions were so sophisticated many officers forgot she was an AI when they interacted with her in hologram mode. Though of course she had reduced her hologram size so she could fit in the car without blocking Castiel’s view of the sky. 

“You can’t take him in for processing because he has been tagged by Heaviral.”

“The pharmaceutical company?” Castiel asked incredulous. 

“It’s weird, the tag is placed by the owner of Heaviral, a M. Milton.” 

“I don’t want to mess with the Miltons, you hear the stories, not tonight,” Castiel sighed. “You have to help me Charlie.” 

“Don’t sweat it, I got you,” Charlie grinned confidently. “I happen to know the AI who runs Heaviral’s administration and Megatron has always wanted to get his hands on my original Don Quixote hardcopy, he’s a bit of a book collector. So I can get him to short circuit the tag for about 24 hours. That’ll give Dean some time to rest and then he can go and see Mr Milton in your company rather than being collected in his current vulnerable state. You can explain to Mr Milton that Dean belongs to you and I’m sure he will be a reasonable Oligarch and listen.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “He’s an Arch, Charlie.” 

“Precisely,” Charlie quipped. “Doesn’t bode well to speak ill of an Arch, even on an encrypted feed.” 

"So what’s going on?” Dean piped in, rattling the cuffs in agitation. “What’s an Arch. And where are you taking me?” 

"You need to sleep to recover your code reasoning. And I'm going to find out what happened, how you ended up in my vessel and how to get you out. I’ll also work out why an Arch wants you," Castiel said resolutely. “None of this is going to be easy." 

Dean leaned his head on the widow and looked out at the glittering metropolis below. 

“Look on the bright side Cas,” Dean whispered softly. “We’re in a flying car.” 

* * * 

"We can talk in the morning about who you are, how you got here, etcetera,” said Castiel as he undressed for the shower. 

Dean stretched out on Castiel’s bed, the only bed in the small studio apartment the police officer lived in. Dean buried his face in his elbow. It was hard to get comfortable given the cuffs and being fully clothed. There was also the fact that Cas didn't remember him, know him, whatever. Waking up in the lab had been one of the worse awakenings Dean had gotten in his admittedly eventful existence. Finding himself on a slab, bagged in plastic and surrounded by inanimate bodies had been uncomfortable and grotesque. Cas was the first friendly face Dean saw, emerging from the shadows like a ray of sunshine in the midst of a brewing storm. What Dean couldn't fathom was Cas' complete lack of recognition and his ridiculous story about making Dean up from some dream. 

What Dean was sure of was that this Cas wasn't his Cas. Not the Cas who busted him out of hell and saved the world time and again. This Cas was lonely and cunning and he didn't play well with others. 

"I'd watch ya showever buddy but I'm beat," Dean put on his most irritating smirk and rolled over. "Nice place by the way." 

Dean had been surprised when the building they entered was completely devoid of people. The self-service apartment was automated, with interfaces lining the walls and holo-projectors around every corner. Castiel took Dean via the service lift to his studio. It was a cramped little box, though tidily set up with a work station and small kitchenette, a bookshelf dividing the bed from the study. Everything was made of organic materials which Dean realised was difficult to source. The window dominated one wall, a small row of cactus in tiny terracotta pots lined the windowsill interspersed with small tea light candles filled with sweet smelling beeswax. The bed was a four poster, its blonde wooden frame serving aptly as Dean's cuff tether. 

"Are you sure you are the police? This isn't some weird sex-napping. I mean look at your bed, you’ve gotta be into something exciting," Dean jested, the exhaustion slurring his words a little. 

Castiel was cooking in the tiny kitchenette. The savoury soup he was heating smelt nutty and wholesome. 

"I'm asking because you told me I was a thief and that this body was your's but I don't see a police station or a hospital so you wanna tell me why you are bringing criminals home?" 

"Downloading into a new body is a huge undertaking psychologically. Most people can't handle it and the first twenty four hours is crucial to retaining a functioning neural system in the new host. What you are exhibiting in terms of coordination, verbalisation and physical movement are all atypical. I can't leave you in a prison cell vulnerable and whoever put you in my vessel would be looking for you in the hospital precinct. I sure as hell am not going to hand you over to an Arch who has put a tag on you like a lost dog. I need you safe so I can work out what to do with you." 

"Then you don't need to tie me up," Dean said coyly. "If I'm so vulnerable and all you wanna do is protect me." 

"I'm curious but I'm not stupid, envoy.” Castiel said without malice. 

Castiel poured the fragrant liquid into two porcelain bowls. He left one to cool on the windowsill and the other he brought around with a spoon. "Here." 

The soup tasted like chicken and there were small slivers of what looked like mushrooms inside. After one taste, Dean drank down the whole bowl without pause, making a mess of his chin and neck. Castiel complained about Dean scolding himself and returned with a cool wet face towel. Dean watched Castiel's face as he cleaned fastidiously, dabbing at Dean's mouth and lingering along his jawline. 

"So if you don't know me, why'd you make a ... vessel ... like this?" 

"Vessel design is a very personal topic." 

"Was I supposed to be a pleasure robot or something?" Dean raised his eyebrows. 

"No!" Castiel said quickly. 

"So people don't make vessels for that?" 

"They do, all the time, but that's not why I ..." 

"That's fucked up," Dean interjected. "I mean I don't wanna judge but that's like plastic surgery to the extreme isn't it?" 

"People are immortal, what did you expect?" Castiel gestured out the window. "Natural resources have dried up, the wealthier nations have technology for GM crops and seeded-rain. America has won the technological war and anyone with a steady job can dream the dream of longevity. Any vessel you desire, any number of them, provided you have the money." 

"So you are not my Cas? Just someone in something that looks like him?" 

Castiel paused, his expression thoughtful. "You really believe you know this Cas?"

"Yeah, he's one in a billion," Dean said without hesitation. "He's my ... friend. My guardian angel." 

"Huh," Castiel shifted some pillows to proffer Dean up into a more comfortable position having seemingly decided that Dean needed to drink the second bowl of soup as well. "Are you religious?" 

Dean snorted in reply. 

"They say the First Brothers had an Angel," Castiel said. “Oh come on you don’t even remember the creation myth of Old Earth? The Trio who led the Survivors to the planet, the first inhabitable one found in this universe. They had an angel, an unnamed one, he was good unlike all your Angels and Archangels nowadays. He was a Guardian for the two brothers while they worked to make the planet inhabitable. The Church of the Angel Protectorate was formed to worship him.” 

Dean narrowed his eyes, letting out a huge yawn. “You got bad angels here too?” 

“Yeah, when gracification occurs the stack is corrupted. The individual becomes duty driven, they take on missions, they forget their humanity. They live many lives until complete gracification makes them an Angel. A creature without heart or emotions, incapable of empathy. We’re like insects to them, irrelevant because we are so short lived in comparison. The Archs have been angelicised for a long long time. They are ruthless and control most of the resource left on Earth as well as vast numbers of colonised planets.” 

“Huh,” Dean muttered. “Sucks for you guys. Why am I so tired, did you drug me?” 

“No, your body is responding to the nutrients you ingested, it is trying to get you to sleep so you can dream. The dreams help your stack to unify its coding, you should wake up making a lot more sense than you do now. You’ll remember all the lives you lived as an envoy, you’ll become a deadly weapon.” 

“Okay,” Dean said sleepily. “What if I don’t wanna remember.” 

“Remembering is returning to who you are.” 

“But what about this me? I like me now.”

Castiel didn’t know how to answer that. He didn’t have to, Dean was fast asleep. Castiel returned to the kitchen and began cooking a meal for himself. 

* * * 

So many apocalypses, over and over. He survived each one. There is another who is so close to him, they were inseparable. They always got through it together, they were family. 

The angel returned to him each time. He was faithful and indestructible. 

There was a hell and a purgatory and he screamed in agony in one then killed, carved out a path of blood, in the other. 

This place was desolate. It was perfect. 

Wearied. He laid down to rest, his angel beside him. His other was still out there, faithfully watching over them both. 

A piece of him was stolen.

He was being reduced to pieces, locked into binaries, forced to live and to kill, he became an envoy. He screamed. 

* * * 

It was pandemonium when Dean opened his eyes, Castiel had him by the wrists, pinned to the bed. Dean struggled against the weight but then realised Castiel was actually unlocking the cuffs. He grabbed Dean’s hands and shoved them into his chest, he laid on top of Dean, blanketing him in warmth. 

“Shush,” Castiel said. “You’re in your vessel, your vessel is your body, it is a gift of the angel, you’re whole, you’re a miracle of life.” 

Dean blinked, sucking in deep breaths and getting the smell of Castiel in his nostrils for his troubles. Beeswax and salty perspiration from their struggle. 

“You’re in your vessel, your vessel is your body...” 

Dean began to utter the words, echoing it and it soothed him. 

“I’m whole,” Dean said, he could remember all the missions he had completed as an envoy, all the trials and sentencing as well. 

Dean sighed, commanding his vessel to relax. “I’m all right, I remember now.” 

Castiel, still holding Dean’s hands, slowly undraped himself. Dean could see in the glow of city lights coming in through the window that Castiel‘s chest was bare, soft jersey slung low on his hips. There was a warm patch of sheets next to him and the indentation of a curled up body having slept next to him. The sight of the wrinkled sheets and the dip in the bedding was unexpectedly sweet. Dean swallowed, he remembered the Cas in his base coding, that strange pseudo memory or fantasy of another world or time when he had known Cas. Maybe that was just a bunch of code glitch, it was too hard to make sense of it now that his envoy memories lay on top, clear and vivid and crimson. Dean could feel his envoy intuitions prickling beneath his skin, animating the muscles and pulling the sinews. He could read the unease in Castiel’s face, could sense the unwanted desire intensifying in those pretty ocean eyes. 

“Really awake now,” Dean shifted with a smirk, making sure the right parts of his vessel touched Castiel. 

Castiel practically leapt off the bed, leaving Dean cold and alone. 

“What are you doing?” Castiel was poised at the end of the bed, perched on his heels like a frightened animal ready to bolt. 

“You like this vessel?” Dean asked coyly. “Want to test it out?” 

“I told you, it’s not like that,” Castiel said, his voice tense and hoarse from sleep and embarassment. 

“Come on you want me to test drive it by myself?” 

“It’s the hormones they pump into the flesh in the tank, a side effect is an enhanced libido in the first weeks of downloading,” Castiel sighed wearily. “Must you really?” 

Dean locked eyes with Castiel and replied by slowly running his hand down his chest. He was overdressed in a t-shirt and underwear. Quickly, Dean peeled off both, lifting his butt off the mattress in an athletic flourish. Castiel turned his head resolute and refused to look at him. 

“You think you own me?” Dean asked. 

“No, just the vessel. Or the Vault does since it is still heavily mortgaged.” 

“Well the Vault isn’t here right now. Did you augment the sensory input because this skin feels amazingly sensitive.” 

“No, it’s a basic model,” Castiel ground out between clenched teeth. 

Castiel climbed off the bed and grabbed his coat, tying the sash around his waist like a dressing gown. It was raining outside, the window displaying a discreet warning about the pH of the precipitation. It was pouring down acid rain, he couldn’t go outside. 

Castiel paced the tiny kitchen but everything was open plan anyway. He didn’t even have a comfortable chair to sleep in. Resigned, he returned to the bed and lied down with his back to Dean. Castiel closed his eyes and tried to block out the obscene sounds and the overt trembling of the bed. 

“It’s awesome, Cas.” Dean was really enjoying himself with Castiel’s vessel and there was nothing Castiel could do about it. 

Castiel clenched his fists, he was frustrated by the fact that he did not find what Dean was doing unsanitary or intrusive. The smell of it was sweet and sharp and the sounds were subdued and evocative. He could hear that Dean was trying to stay quiet, though his jerking muscles shook the bed with rhythmic vibrations. He almost wished Dean would make lewd and loud theatrical noises, somehow the restraint was almost irresistible. 

Tomorrow, Castiel promised himself, tomorrow he would take care of Dean. 

* * *


	2. Every Man Is The Son Of His Own Works

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel is finding it hard to resist Dean’s envoy charms. Dean recovers his memory, makes a new enemy and strikes a bargain to solve a murder.

Castiel awoke slowly, there was a warm body draped across his back with heavy limbs and substantial torso. The snoring was abominable. Castiel extricated himself and frowned when his plam scanner activated automatically, lighting up the sheets as his hands hovered over them. It was detecting DNA traces. Castiel made face and turned around to rouse Dean and then paused. He leaned in closer to look at the bizarre modifications on Dean's shoulder and chest, the sunlight making visible the glaring flaws on Dean's skin. 

"What is that?" Castiel whispered and he couldn't help but extend his index finger to poke at the scarring. 

Dean snapped awake, catching his hand by the wrist. His other fist rose up and only just stopped short of punching Castiel on the neck. 

"Easy, Cas," Dean muttered sleepily but his eyes were alert now, watching Castiel steadily. "You can't wake a guy up like that." 

"Angry sleeper?" 

"Vigilant. What are you looking at? Hmm, you put those scars there? And the tattoo?" 

Castiel shook his head and when Dean looked at him skeptically he said: "I can show you the vessel specifications I sent to the vault. I didn't order those." 

"Really?" Dean tugged on Castiel's hand and placed his open palm over the scar. It fit exactly. "You sure about that?" 

Castiel snatched his hand back as if burnt. "I can't explain it." 

"All right, I'm not gonna ask you anymore, thanks for letting me spend the night." Dean stood up, walking around the bed without any shyness as he looked for his clothes. "Though I gotta say, usually when I spend the night somewhere I make it worth my host's while. Hey why is your hand glowing over your trench coat like that?" 

Castiel looked down and made a disgusted face. "You have left your protein on my work clothes." 

"You slept in that?" 

"I didn't want to be exposed to your hormonal urges," Castiel said primly. "I need to sanitise." 

Dean went about making coffee and cooking breakfast as if it was a domestic weekend. Castiel usually ingested a protein bar on his way to work but the things Dean could do with bread and olive oil was almost criminal. Castiel ate the meal thoughtfully, was Dean alive when that dish was first created? 

There was new found wariness to Dean's movements, a sense of economy and precision. 

"Did you train in the Missionary?" 

Dean smiled. "Maybe I just augmented with some combat software like everyone else." 

Castiel shook his head. "No, I don't think so. What were you trained in?" 

"Which time, in which vessel?" Dean asked haughtily. 

Castiel took in a sharp breath. The Missionary Program was affiliated with the Church and was very selective about the candidates it trained. Jack for example would have had to show incredible natural talent to be selected for training and the Missionary only ever trained an individual in one skill, fearing that multiple skill sets would make them too powerful. The Missionary tagged the stack of each trainee upon graduation, making it impossible for them to re-enrole. 

Dean tried to ransack Castiel's tiny wardrobe. 

"Are you a serial killer?" He asked, pointing towards the one spare suit and white shirt. "You don't even own a second coat." 

"The coat is special," Castiel said without elaboration. He didn't want to give away all his secrets to Dean, no matter how disarmingly charming he was. 

"Right, suit it is." 

Dean dumped his hospital clothes, some ill fitting pants and a jumper that who knows what vessel had left behind, and put on Castiel's spare suit. He looked more dapper than Castiel ever felt in it. Though it did look a little strange with the cowboy boots Dean had gotten from the Vault. 

They got in the police cruiser parked on the roof and Castiel took a sip of the travel mug Dean handed to him. He hadn't really thought about it, just taken it and started drinking without any sense of suspicion or fear. Damned envoy mind tricks. Castiel sipped the hot coffee, it was fragrant and creamy, far superior to the machine stuff Donna Hanscum fuelled him with. 

"So total absorption," Castiel said accusingly. "You're doing that right now aren't you? Fitting into my life like you've always been there, a comrade." 

"I was more going for the lover/partner vibe, but sure," Dean bit his cheek as he grinned. 

Castiel gave him a glare and started the engine before Dean could ask to drive. 

* * * 

Milton Manor was on the uppermost lithosphere. The cruiser ascended far above the Plebian traffic until Dean began to clutch onto Castiel's leg. 

"You don't like flying up here?" 

"Traffic flow at roof top level is awesome but heights like this are not my favourite." 

"I'll make sure Charlie puts that down on your file, under weaknesses," Castiel said sardonically. 

The house that rose before them was situated at the apex of a megaplex, taking up the entire roof-space of a high-rise acreage. It looked more a palace than a residence, situated on rolling hills complete with pools, lakes and woods. 

"Rich huh," Dean shot Castiel a look. "What does someone like that want with little ol' me?" 

Castiel rolled his eyes. "I don't know, you're a contract killer, maybe Mr Milton wants to hire you as a cook." 

From the high vantage point of the airdock, they could see people walking around the grounds. Castiel parked the cruiser after clearing several automated checkpoints. Each one unlocked without Castiel having to introduce himself, so he figured Milton knew they were coming. There was a lone woman standing by as they landed, the draft from the thrusters stirred up her long red hair. Castiel narrowed his eyes, it couldn't be. 

"Castiel, good to see you," greeted Anna. "And this must be Dean." 

Castiel looked at her aghast. "I thought you died on duty. I mourned you." 

"Sorry partner, I got recruited by Michael and it just wasn't an offer I could refuse. And he of course wanted the utmost discretion and anonymity so I had to skip out on the farewell party." 

Castiel regarded Anna with uneasiness. She looked younger than he remember from, what was it, ten years ago. Guess her new salary package included de-ageing benefits. Anna had been a renowned Exorcist, in fact she had provided him with extensive on the job training. She was a fearsome fighter and an accomplished strategist. She looked like she was in her early twenties now, girlish and petit. Her body armour was state of the art, her stride light as air and her smile was wicked as she nodded her greeting. Her eyes looked old in her pretty young face. 

Dean was studying Anna with an inscrutable look. He was polite with her, chivalrously gesturing for her to walk ahead of them. Castiel saw him looking at her ass and squinted with annoyance. 

"She's a fighter right?" Dean whispered. 

"I'm head of security for Michael Milton," Anna said as if Dean had asked her a question, she probably had augmented hearing. "He is expecting you." 

They walked around the front lawn where group of people off in the distance were playing a baseball game. The batter was a young man with a baseball cap pulled low over his face, he hit a home run and everyone went scrambling for the ball. 

"Hmm," Dean made a sound. 

"What?" Castiel asked, he didn't buy the whole envoy intuition thing but Dean was pretty perceptive since his regenerative sleep. He even walked different, with more purpose and his eyes looked different too. Though Castiel had not really had a chance to really look at Dean since his recovery. He was reluctant to do so, he didn't want to risk Dean reading him too much. 

"The players, they are all the same height and build." 

"Well, people like Milton can probably hire out professional baseball teams." 

"Yeah but not every is built the same even on a professional team and they wouldn't all move the same." 

Castiel turned his head to look but Anna rushed them on. "Mr Milton will be with you shortly." 

She led them through the impressive facade of the house, all creamy sandstone and organic ironwood details. A faceless Synthetic with a mirror for a head brought them a tray of drinks, it was aged whisky, the fragrance of it spicy in the air. The library they were taken to was lined wall to wall with shelving for real books. Each one would have cost a fortune. Castiel had never seen such a collection of organic books except for in Churches behind reinforced glass and protected by alarms. Here, the volumes stood naked against each other as they were trivial items of decoration. Castiel had never read an actual book in his life, he'd only ever read digitised copies off his visual feed or listened to audio readings. 

"Don't touch my stuff." 

Castiel withdrew his outstretched hand and placed them in his coat pockets. Dean was looking at the speaker with something like fear on his face. 

"Hi, you must be Castiel. I'm Michael Milton, but most of my friends call me Mikey D." 

Castiel looked at the young man standing before him. 'Mikey' looked to be in his early twenties but of course that was probably de-ageing. Castiel had heard of the ancient family of Miltons and he knew that Michael Milton had been in control of that empire for decades. Michael had a freckled face and gingerish hair, his eyes were an opaque meadow green and ageless. His baseball uniform was grass stained at the knees, his limbs were long and shapely, a curl of hair was stuck to his forehead in an endearing manner, sticking up slightly to form a sweaty cowlick. The reason Dean was so struck by Michael was because he looked like a younger version of Dean. 

"Mr Milton, I would like you to remove the tagging on my vessel." Castiel did not allow the striking similarities to falter him. It was best to get to the point with people like Michael. 

"As you can see, I have a proprietary interest in that body of yours." 

Michael wasn't looking at Dean though. He was looking Castiel up and down, then peering up at him through lowered eyelashes. Castiel felt a slight blush creep over his cheeks, he dug his hands deeper into the pockets of his trench coat. There was a sweet smell in the air, like fresh apples and pastry. Castiel looked around, there was no food on the tray. 

"Oh come on, that's gross," Dean said and grabbed a glass of whisky. 

"Dean's vessel was created by me inch by inch ..."

Michael giggled and waggled his eyebrows to an invisible audience. Dean gritted his teeth at the theatrics. 

"He is a completely original creation. If you allowed yourself to age, I am sure you would nothing like him." 

"Right," Michael said. "Excuse me, my baseball buddies have finished changing into their swimming gear. I'm holding a bit of a ad hoc pool party, come see." 

"We don't got time for this, this guy is playing games," Dean said haltingly. "Come on Cas, we'll go to your work, get them to remove the tag officially. I'm clearly your's." 

Michael raised his eyesbrows. 

"You know what I mean, my body is his," Dean said grinning cockily. 

Castiel looked at the two of them sizing each other up. Dean had a good few inches on Michael but there was a viciousness in Michael's face that Dean, assassin or not,  lacked. 

"Anna, send them in," Michael said via audio-feed. 

Castiel looked through the arched windows at the large pool gleaming like a jewel in the manicured garden. There were a number of people in it, all male. Presumably they were the baseball players. He saw them clamber out and accompany Anna up the winding marble staircases. 

They walked in, still wet from the pool and clad only in resort towels. The nudity was not as off-putting as their faces. Each one was blank eyed but beautiful, their muscles bronzed from the plentiful sun that Milton Manor enjoyed high above the pollution line. 

"Come on Mikey D, let's go for a splash," said one of the clones, white teeth gleaming with a crooked smile. 

"Might let you win the diving contest," said another, running his hand through his wet hair. 

The last one took an interest in Castiel, licking his pink plump lips as he said: "Who's this handsome police officer?" 

Castiel felt almost dizzy and he was definitely having a physical reaction to the hoard of clones. There was an intensification of that apple blossom scent in the air, to the point of cloyingness. 

"They are pheromone augmented, just like him," Dean said sharply. "Try not to oxygenate Cas."

Castiel shot Dean a dirty look. "I can control myself." 

"You sure?" Dean's eyes dipped low. "For once I'm glad you got your creeper coat on." 

"I'm an officer of the law," Castiel said to Michael. "I find this display of hedonism distasteful. I repeat my request for you to remove the tagging from my vessel, from Dean. Or I can scan all the clones here and see just how many have been double dipped, even if partially." 

Michael narrowed his eyes at Castiel but then his mouth quirked up at the ends. "Brains and brawn, I like that in a guy. Come on, pleasure software is so basic, a partial stack duplication of the libidious codes make hanging out with my friends so much more fun and spontaneous." 

Dean made a disgusted sound. "Remind me never to get rich and old." 

"You are old." Castiel murmured. 

"Yeah, but this guy is old and bored. He's so arrogant, he spends all his time playing with himself."

The crude joke pulled a surprised laugh out of Castiel. 

"I should teach you some respect," Michael said menacingly to Dean. 

Castiel pinned Michael to the wall, the clones gasped in unison but none of the them had the guts to intervene. Anna had her hand on her gun but her face remained calm. 

"You should show me some respect," Castiel said slowly, he raised his right hand and his palm lit up. The light of the code scrambler hummed as Castiel's hand caressed down Michael's cheek, over his ear and then stopped at the nape of his neck right over where his stack lived in his spine. 

"Fuck," Michael licked his lips, his eyes fluttering. "Where have you been all my life?" 

Anna struck, seizing Castiel's wrist, pointing his palm away from Michael. One of the clones was dumb enough to try to get in on the action, as soon as he came into range of the scanner his eyes and mouth lit up. Anna used the split seconds the scanner was occupied to twist Castiel's arms behind his back and slap restrains on them. 

Michael wiped at the corner of his mouth, he was visibly panting, his face flushed with excitement. 

"My lawyer is on his way to explain why the vessel belongs to me," Michael said. "Would you like to wait with me poolside?" 

* * * 

Dean and Castiel sat under an umbrella. Anna stood behind them vigilantly. Michael drank rum from a half coconut, while his clones massaged sun-tan oil over his lithe limbs. Dean made disparaging comments about Michael, while Castiel sat quietly trying not to look at the display. 

The lawyer arrived shortly thereafter. He was a tall man with a sensitive looking face and polite manners. Mr Wesson explained to Castiel that Dean's vessel was tagged once it decanted because the revitalisation system detected a 99% similarity to a registered patented set of DNA markers. That DNA belonged to Michael Milton. This triggered an alert and automatic tagging upon the vessel. Now Castiel would either face a civil suit for patent infringement or he would have to otherwise strike a deal with Michael to compensate him for the duplication of his DNA. 

"I have never met your client and I have certainly not had access to his DNA," Castiel insisted. "So to say that this is an infringement is ridiculous." 

"My client is a very well known man, amongst the political circles, it would be difficult to prove to a court that you were not aware of him," Mr Wesson said patiently. 

"Even if I had been aware of him, how would I have had access to his DNA?" 

"I don't know but you can't deny the resemblance between Dean and Michael. The DNA similarities are irrefutable. A ruthless attorney might make something of your vocation as an Exorcist, you have access to all sort of classified DNA profiles via the police department." 

"That's not my department, I don't deal with organics just code." 

"Yes, but an attorney might be able to cast enough doubt in the minds of a jury. Perhaps you had friends in another division or you hacked the departmental AI." 

"Would you make those accusations against me in court?" Castiel asked. 

Mr Wesson ran a hand through his hair, his smile was genuine. "No, that is because my specialty is client negotiations, not litigation." 

"I don't see what bargaining power I have against a man like Michael Milton," Castiel said realistically. "So why are you talking to me?"

Mr Wesson smiled again, for a lawyer he had a friendly approachable air. Castiel was almost sure his warm personality it wasn't some sort artificial augmentation software either. 

"Actually my job is to convince Dean to take on a contract." 

"Tell me it's to kill Michael?" Dean interjected hopefully. 

Michael rolled over on his lounge chair so that a clone could go to work hard on his lower back. He grunted in appreciation and stuck his tongue out at Dean. 

"Michael was successfully assassinated three nights ago."

Dean and Castiel stared at Mr Wesson. 

"Anna had taken precautions to keep a copy of Michael's stack on her person. So she was able to back him up into a new clone, then de-age it to his liking. It would have been a successful assassination attempt otherwise." 

"He didn't manage to needlecast out before the assassination? Don't the backups automatically happen on a daily cycle?" Castiel asked, intrigued in his professional capacity. 

"The backups are supposed to happen hourly. All the backups were wiped."

"That's not possible, the Vault would never allow that to happen. Some of their digital banks are off world," Castiel said incredulously. "You would have to have Kevin level control to wipe all the backups." 

"Kevin has been checked, throughly, it wasn't him," Mr Wesson said. 

"If it had been, his sentience licence would have been revoked," Michael said. "I would have made sure of it." 

"Maybe it was a computer virus," Castiel reasoned. "A cyber attack on Kevin." 

"And a physical attack on Michael. He was exorcised out of his vessel." 

"And they blew off my head!" Michael said angrily. "Right in my library, my brain was all over my books. You can't just sanitise paper you know. Ruined all of my Don Quixote!" 

"Was that your favourite book?" Castiel asked. 

Michael looked at Castiel with a puzzled expression. "I wouldn't know, I haven't actually read them. That would be barbaric, those books are worth entire resource mines each." 

Dean made an unimpressed sound. "Thought I was a heathen." 

"My client was upset by the intrusion on his person and his code. So he would like to employ Dean redress the insult." Mr Wesson said diplomatically, the way he looked Dean was full of admiration. "I am sure if anyone is capable of taking out Lucifer, the last envoy on Earth would be the person to do it."

Castiel sucked in a deep breath. Dean was laughing like a maniac.

"Lucifer is a myth," Dean said. "He's propaganda made up by the Uprisers to figurehead their cause. There was no Lucifer, I would know, I was around for the Lucifer Uprising!" 

That revelation made Castiel's stomach turn. He had forgotten how long Dean had been around as an envoy. That was hundreds of years ago, everything Castiel knew about that was stuff he learnt in history-casts. 

"You may as well ask me to kill an idea," Dean said vehmently. 

"Ideas don't grow legs and vapourise heads," Michael replied bitterly. "If you accomplish the contract envoy, I'll untag your vessel, you get to keep that body for free. I'll even send Castiel here one of my clones, since he likes that model so much." 

Castiel looked down at his lap when one of the clones turned and smiled at him with a suggestive wink. 

"Keep the clone, I get this body, you annul Cas' vessel mortgage at the Vault ... and get me a flying car. That's the deal." Dean stood up and offered his hand to Mr Wesson, pointedly ignoring Michael. "Oh and make it a classic wouldya?" 

* * * 

Back in the cruiser, Castiel audio-feeds Charlie what had occurred. 

“He said his brains were blown all over the Don Quixote. Why would his AI Metatron want those books if Michael already owned them? And why would someone like Anna give up her work in the police force to babysit a spoilt brat like Michael? She was an officer of great integrity, taught me most of the E&P techniques I know, she was never one to be impressed by money.” 

Dean looked over at Castiel with fond eyes. “Hey I thought you were all looks and badass moves but your mind is really sexy.” 

Castiel rolled his eyes. “So how we gonna get Dean into the station without too many questions? He needs access to the locked Lucifer files because he’s a stealthy envoy who is overly confident in his own skills and he likes classic cars and making foolhardy deals.” 

“I got an idea, leave it to me,” Charlie said. 

TBC


	3. Our Hours In Love Have Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas go out on the beat for the first time as fake-partners. 
> 
> That’s if they make it out of the privacy of the armoury. 
> 
> Cas get’s his smite on.

"Listen up, cops, it's Departmental announcement time!" Charlie blared out into the audio-cast of the entire Texan PD. "Turn on your visual feeds for images." 

Castiel looked at Dean in shock. 

"Got us some new recruits. Jack Kline is our E&P trainee, he's under the 'care' of officer Novak. Elizabeth our delivery lady is on sick leave for a week. Gabriel and Balthazar start their vacation today. Leave to your imagination why two cops who are partners wanna take their holiday together. Oh and more news for Castiel, you got a new partner, Departmental transfer from off-world. And the bachelor behind door number 1 is: Dean Winchester!" 

Castiel gawked at the audio-feed photo of Dean, decked out in police uniform and grinning widely for the camera. Charlie went a little ham on the manipulated lighting, Dean looked like Mr June.

"This is your idea of undercover?" Castiel opened a private channel to Charlie.

"Dean was in on it. The envoys call it hiding in plain sight! I do good, Cas?" 

Castiel sighed, he didn't have the heart to contradict Charlie. He switched off the feed. 

"You put her up to this, she could get scrubbed if you get caught. This is fraud, she's not an emancipated AI, they'll reprogram her." Castiel said to Dean, heatedly. 

"I won't get caught then," Dean smiled crookedly. "Come on, showtime."

Then Dean took Castiel by the elbow and marched him through the bullpen. 

Hanscum and Mills were stood by Castiel's desk, one holding two cups of the coffee and the other a box of donuts. 

"Welcome!" Hanscum beamed. "I'm Donna, what a pleasant surprise to meet Castiel's new partner. He's a good cop, you'll love him!" 

"She made me do this," Mills pushed her arms out mechanically, offering the pastries. 

Dean chose an icing laden, jam filled monstrosity and stuffed it into his mouth in one ginormous bite. Castiel took both cups of coffee. 

"So off-world huh, which planet?" Hanscum asked innocently. 

"Mars," Dean said casually. "Needlecasted in yesterday. I would've come and met Cas then but he was busy chasing up some missed personal delivery or something." 

"Cas, huh," Hanscum gave Dean a very sweet smile. "I got a cousin on Mars, he says the Wagyu pepper steaks in Emerald City are the best." 

"Actually Kobe is a higher grade of beef on Mars, the terra formed pastures ensure good marbling," Dean smiled right back at her, Castiel could see them both flashing shiny white teeth at each other, like a couple of streetwise cats meeting in an alleyway. They were sizing each other up with teasing friendless. 

"Someone's watched Global Geographic documentaries," Hanscum said chirpily. "Well, mysterious space cowboy, you take care our Castiel. He's not used to having a partner." 

Dean wrapped his arm around Castiel's shoulders, Castiel held himself stiffly and endured the contact with a blank face. "I'll take good care of him." 

Mills gave Dean a curt nod and gestured with her head at Hanscum in a 'let's go' motion. 

Castiel let out a brief sigh of relief then tensed again when Mills marched right back. 

"I will shoot you." Mills said to Dean. "If anything happens to him."

Hanscum giggled and walked out to patrol. 

"I just forgot to say that," Mills followed her out. 

Castiel brought Dean to his desk, Charlie had already arranged for another desk to be set up opposite it. They shared a dual faced holo-monitor. 

"There's someone in my chair," Castiel paused. "That's not your seat." 

Jack jump up and snatched one of the coffees Castiel was carrying. Castiel blinked, Jack had quick reflexes. 

"Good morning Castiel, what a wonderful sunrise it was through the office windows, could almost see a spherical shape through the pollution layer." Jack gushed enthusiastically. "I'm so glad I worked here all night to be able to witness something like that." 

"He's your ..." Dean made a face. "Assistant? Underling? Adopted stray?" 

"You're my adopted stray," Cas said gruffly. "Jack is a cadet. Fresh out of training, he's been earmarked for E&P work." 

"I'm his new partner..." Jack said hesitantly. 

"Wait in line kid," Dean laughed. "Go get another chair, you can at my desk and do my bidding while Cas and I go on the beat." 

"So I see you're good with data entry," Castiel said ponderously as he skimmed through Jack's work on the monitor. 

"It's not my core skill but I do enjoy combing for finer details," Jack said. "When there is sufficient data, there are patterns and stories in them, they talk to you..." 

"All right, find out about Mr Wesson. I want everything, his first name, his life story," Castiel said. "Oh and allocate the data you find to the Lucifer Files." 

Dean looked at Castiel with an impressed expression. "I picked up on him too, too nice to be a lawyer." 

Jack was looking Dean with a curious expression. "You have a good sense of intuition?" 

"Yeah," Dean said. "It's telling me that's my coffee." 

Jack's hands blurred in motion, Castiel could see the two of them trying out different close combat holds on each other. Dean ended up with the coffee cup, just. 

Jack's cheeks were flushed and he looked at Dean with almost adoration. "Wow, none of my instructors could do that." 

"Smartypants huh," Dean winked at Jack. "You can stick around, you might be useful." 

Castiel dragged Dean into the lift because Jack could go into complete admiration mode again. 

"I wanna check out the worst places for crime in the city, gotta find info on who took a hit out on Mike," Dean's face showed distaste as he said the name of his new employer. 

"You can't go like this to the Dumping District," Castiel said and pushed a button on the elevator that read 'Inventory'. 

* * *   
Dean was in heaven, turned out 'Inventory' was the police armoury. It was wall to wall weapons and ammunition, grenades, poisons, electrifiers and sonic webbing. The human race had been hard at work over the last eighty years on the art of destruction. Dean enjoyed poking and prodding the newer offerings but he was truly drawn to the classics. Castiel had to admit Dean had excellent taste and with Charlie back-dooring them into every level of access, Dean looked like - how Castiel imagined Jack would be in a snack store. Castiel made a mental note that if Jack finds anything interesting on Mr Wesson, he was going to take the cadet to a supermarket. 

Dean picked a round device up from a glass cabinet. It lit up in his hand with the same white blue glow that Castiel's palm scanner did. "Looks like Iron Captain's chest battery." 

Castiel showed Dean his palms and flexed his fingers. "My model features newer, minaturised, sub-dermal implants. You're holding the prototypes created about seventy years ago." 

"Who invented these, they are awesome!" Dean gushed enthusiastically. "They look so badass when you use it. Just like the Angel paintings in the old churches." 

Castiel frowned. "I hadn't really thought about their aesthetic appeal, but I suppose they do give the effect of a mythological exorcism." 

"Nah, not just kicking someone out of a vessel, like full powered smiting. You guys must still have the same religious propaganda we do, with that angel dude getting his smite on and blading about like a combat enthusiast's wet-dream," Dean was excited. "The Angel of No Name is totally the only religious figure I enjoy." 

"They are not for your enjoyment, they are meant to be a terrifying tool of the Church to keep the 'sinning populations' at bay," Castiel air-quoted the church-cast terminology ironically. "Though I do enjoy the food on Angel's Eve." 

"Man after my own hear," Dean grinned and Castiel had to look away.

While Dean delighted in strolling through the shelves upon shelves of weaponry, Castiel was taking long assessing looks at Dean. When Dean paused to examine some old fashioned Angel blades, Castiel crept upon him and reached for his neck. Dean's reflexes were lightning fast, he pressed Castiel to the display podium and had a blade in hand before his whole body shuddered and he floundered sidewards and collapsed to the floor. 

Castiel knelt down beside him and carefully picked up the dropped blade. "You're faster than you were yesterday." 

"The fuck," Dean grunted on the floor, holding his hands to his ears. "Why do you sound like a helicopter?" 

"The audio/visual implants aren't exactly comfortable to install. You do need it go on the beat though, so I did the merciful thing and surprised you with them. The communication channels will be worth it." 

"Ever heard of a mobile phone?" Dean moaned. "I can't fucking see, Cas."

"Not really," Castiel chuckled. "Just give it a minute Dean. I thought envoys were trained to endure pain beyond imagining and defeat simulated torture etc." 

"We like to hype ourselves up, good for business." Dean was getting to his knees now, swaying gently as his sense of balance was thrown out of wack by the implants attaching neural transmitter in his his ear canal and travelling up his visual cortex. 

"I don't remember it being very stressful," Castiel shrugged. "No worse than a piercing. It will take effect in ten minutes or so, then you would be able to talk to anyone you have the DNA channel codes for and direct interface with AIs like Charlie. " 

"You have a piercing?" Dean was definitely looking at Castiel as if trying to use envoy voodoo to see through fabric. "Where? Do you have multiple piercings?" 

Castiel turned around to study some first aid kits but he could still feel Dean's eyes lingering on his back. 

"You getting off the floor anytime soon?" 

"Maybe I like the view."

"If flirtation is one of your total absorption techniques," Castiel said with a faint blush to his cheeks. "It's wasted on me."

"Sure it is."

Castiel does help Dean up into a seat. He looked at Dean up and down, his eyes assessing. 

"Take off the suit jacket."

"Been waiting for you to ask me to take my clothes off."

Castiel rolled his eyes. "And the pants too. Everything except your underwear." 

Dean smirked and began to undress, occasionally putting a hand out to hold onto Castiel, presumably to steady himself. Castiel averted his eyes when the shirt came off. 

"I don't own any underwear." 

Castiel cursed under his breath and threw a pile of body armour he had selected at Dean. Dean picked up the pieces, looking confused as if Castiel had given him an overly complex puzzle. 

"Hey Cas, you gotta help me with this," Dean messed around with a thigh piece. 

"Use your envoy intuition," Castiel said sardonically. 

Dean was smart, he put the pieces together in under five minutes and by then he had also recovered from the implant. Castiel didn't tell Dean that none of the things Dean just did naturally demonstrated exceptional adaptability, he didn't want to fawn over Dean's envoy ability, Dean already had quite the ego. Or at least overtly he did, Castiel remembered the vulnerable and confused Dean he'd first met. That man was still in there, beneath the cocky exterior. 

"Here," Castiel walked back to Dean when he stood up. 

The body armour did need adjusting in places. Once joined it was a hermetically sealed piece, like a layer of bullet proof second skin. Any air-bubbles threatened the integrity of its defences. Castiel pressed his hands to the nooks and crannies, pressing and rubbing in broad strokes. Due to the barrier of the suit, Castiel's hands did not light up. 

Dean had frozen, his mouth agape. "Ugh, Cas, I can feel that." 

"The suit is covered in nerve receptors, don't worry they automatically stop transmitting if the sensory input is unpleasant." 

"Cas," Dean said Castiel's name in an alarmingly whining fashion. 

Castiel looked up from where he was pressing the last of the air out of the seam around Dean's ankles. He leapt back quickly. Dean was showing a reaction that was compromising the suit in particular places. 

"I'll go find you a new covering for that, uh, section." 

"Cas!" Dean had grabbed Castiel by the belt of his trenchcoat. "Come on." 

His voice was whispery and pleading. Castiel found himself drawn in by the half desperation half hopeful look on Dean's face. There was a sudden flush of colour in Dean's cheeks, Castiel could see his pulse jump in his neck and heave of his chest was hypnotic. Castiel found himself pressed into Dean, climbed astride the bench Dean was sitting on. Castiel's traitorous hand held onto the back of Dean's neck, tilting Dean's face up a little forcefully. Dean let out a small exhale and just melted into the touch. 

"Hi Dean, I'm in your head!" 

Dean yelped, jumping up and rubbing at his eyes. Castiel landed on his toes. His visual feed told him it had been exactly 15 minutes since the audio/visual augmentation went in. 

"You look so 3D!" Dean was poking at the air with a finger. 

"Ow, hey, watch where you point that thing," Charlie said, patching Castiel into the channel. "Am I right Cas?" 

Castiel groaned. "Personal boundaries Charlie." 

"Some officers forget to turn off their feeds when they clock off, the things I've seen," Charlie says confidingly. "I could write a very steamy book if it wasn't against my privacy coding."

"I won't forget." Dean muttered darkly, pulling on his clothes, the body armour disappeared under the layers of Castiel's spare white shirt and black pants. 

Castiel blinked, he had selected some very well fitted armour and practical, he missed the sight of them already. Purely from a professional sense of appreciation for defensive systems of course. He looked forward to when Dean got to test them out and that certainly would happen where they were going. 

"At least he has underwear of sorts on now," Charlie said brightly. 

"She was here the whole time?" Dean asked with a sullen look. "Talking in your head?" 

Castiel smiled. "She made some interesting remarks regarding your physique." 

Dean groaned. "The future is not sexy." 

* * * 

Charlie green-lighted all the gear they had taken out of the armoury even though Castiel knew some of them were not approved for general duty use. Being the only E&P specialist had its perks. How Charlie was breaching her code for following standard procedure, Castiel didn't want to know. She shouldn't have been able to do most of the things she did but when Castiel mentioned that to her she just shushed him. 

"You let me worry about that, pretty eyes."

"Is it Michael's power and influence that's opening all these doors for us?" Dean said to Castiel once he learnt how to turn off the feeds. 

"Michael is respected even amongst Archs. His company Heaviral came up with the first biomedical antidote to demonisation. It's a capsule you take orally. It contains nano-technology to clean out your entire vessel and helps it fight demonisation. With the medication, an infected patient can delay the effects of demonisation for years, preventing the need for a code scrub. Gives citizens a chance to lead a normal life, in some cases the effects of demonisation is completely reversed." 

"In my day we just cut the head off and sent the stacks in for cleaning." Dean said. "What's the point of delaying the inevitable?" 

"Re-vesseling is expensive, most people have to be stored until their families can pay for a new vessel." Castiel explained. "It could take several generations to save up. You wake up in a new sleeve and you don't know anyone. Or you stay stored. It is a brutal monetary system, we're slaves to our vessels." 

Dean looked at Castiel for a long moment. "That what happened to your family?" 

"I don't have a family." Castiel said without emotion. "All the records, if I had any family who are in storage, were lost in the Third Lucifer Rising. Just like everyone else's. I grew up under the care of an obscure branch of the Church. Now stop digging information out of me, we have a job to do."

Dean followed Castiel out of Inventory. It was late morning and the city was blanketed in a gold fog that made the high-rises glisten like jewelled glass fruits of capitalist progress. 

"Sulphuric vapour from the Synthetics manufacturing districts," Castiel said. "We'll take the cruiser and fly over it." 

"Pretty," Dean nodded.

* * * 

The entry to the Dumping District was a rooftop checkpoint on the low tier of the city. There were police officers stationed at the secured gateway but of course the big dam like gates rose for the police cruiser Castiel was flying. 

The transit tunnel blacked out the sunlight within a couple seconds and Dean could see the walls of the sports field sized opening to the underground strata was a mess of lights. As they flew close to one wall, Dean could see walkways and stalls and right into people's bedrooms. There was a great mass of humanity down in the gloom and flashing neon broadcasts in every shape and size advertising diversions for the local population and tourists alike.  

The cavernous space beneath the new city was full of buildings from past generations, as the metropolis grew into a megapolis, these layers sunk beneath the shadows. Beneath the crust of the new city's foundations, the Dumping Districts flourished. They piloted towards a fuchia pink skyline which turned out to be a whole hub of interwoven streets. 

"The Pink Light Subdistrict," Charlie chirped in. "Would you like me to block all casts when you alight from the cruiser?" 

Castiel nodded but Dean shook his head. "I'll tell you when I want it blocked." 

"Suit yourself, Dean," Charlie laughed. "Tourist." 

As soon as the doors flew up Dean was pressed back in his seat panting. His visual-feed was flashing rapidly with every scenario and position imaginable. His audio-feed a cacophony of delirious bodily sounds. 

"Give, gimme a moment," Dean closed his eyes and flopped back into the leather embrace of the passenger seat. 

He let the sounds co-mingle and ease until he could filter them out one by one. Dean could never explain to anyone how the envoy sense worked. It was like standing in front of buffet and then something smelt, or looked or felt interesting. Currently, the advertisement that was slowly coming into focus was for a place called Crowley's. 

"We need to check Crowley's out when it opens tonight," Dean gasped opening his eyes again. Charlie muted the rest of the casts.

"Interesting choice," Castiel raised his eyebrows. "Gabriel speaks very highly of the entertainment there." 

"Are officers allowed ..." Dean began. "Do they ..."

"No and yes of course they do." Castiel gestured at the glittering darkness around them. "Hellish dystopia Dean." 

Before they had even taken three steps, a man appeared out of the shadows and made a lunge for the police cruiser. Castiel caught him by the shirt collar in one smooth movement, casting from his palm a clean blinding light. It was so bright and quick that Dean thought it looked like a flick of lightning. The man slumped to the floor and Castiel patched in Charlie to log it as a clean up. 

"Carjacker?" Dean made small talk as they walked. 

"Parking inspector, hate those guys," Castiel wiped his palms on his trench coat in disgust. "That man was black eyed and he still tried to book us, we work for the same government!" 

Dean smiled bemused at Castiel's outrage. 

"Happy hunting guys," Charlie quipped as she came online. "I'm ready to pump out some exorcism receipts Officer Novake." 

Dean estimated the levels of demonisation down here was tenfold what it was like upstairs. Castiel got to work methodically. Dean could see people running away ahead of them down the street. Some tourists were taking images of Castiel at work and clapping when the smiting got theatrical as Castiel took out three people at once. 

Dean stood back and left Castiel to it, the police detective had a sweaty sheen on his face that looked like he was enjoying a good workout. Dean could have stood there all day checking out Castiel but he did in fact want to solve Micheal's stupid problem and keep his body for good. Castiel seemed fond of this vessel and being out of storage was exciting with Castiel around, whirling his trench coat and blazing his hands around like some futuristic dancer. 

Castiel's scrubbers started to take longer to work after about the thirtieth 'customer interaction' and Charlie came online to remind Castiel to rest and replenish before he burnt out the equipment again. 

"Lunch break?" Castiel asked Dean. The tip of his nose was damp and his eyes were bright, he was panting slightly. 

Dean couldn't help himself, he swiped his thumb across Castiel's nosetip. Then, since he'd overstepped already, he wiped away some sweat from Castiel's brow too. 

They stood looking at each other awkwardly, a tourist took a still. This prompted Dean to scratch the back of his neck and Castiel cleared his throat and took a step back. Standing a more decent space apart, they started walking down an alleyway. 

As soon as they left the crowded central squares where Castiel had completed all the exorcism, their plain clothes made them indistinguishable from the rest of the milling population. Soon they were a part of the flow of pedestrians. Dean checked out the shop windows displaying various vices, while Castiel led them to a hole in the wall food stall. A young guy with an atrocious haircut hummed a greeting to Castiel, apparently Castiel was a regular. 

"Pizza pie and plenty of it, please, Garth." Castiel ordered. 

"You been working up an appetite in the transit hub I heard," Garth lamented. "You even took out the Triplets, Crowley is gonna be so mad at you." 

The pizza was deep-dished and odorously garlicky, the cheese pooled in the bottom of the pan and the tomato flavour was zesty as fuck. Dean swallowed his piece almost whole, it felt fantastic to eat. 

"Who's your hungry friend?" 

"Just a cop Garth, stop trying to get intel for Crowley. You're my informant," Castiel grinned. This was the happiest Dean had ever seen Castiel, must have been all the fighting. 

"And don't they know it," Garth sighed. "My secret pizza sauce is all that's keeping me alive in this hellhole. Remind me again why we're friends?" 

"Because I'm non-judgemental." 

"Huh?" 

"Noob, look at my eyes," Garth said, stepping into the light strip illuminating the menu. 

One of Garth's eyeballs was jet black and the other an unearthly turquoise.  

"You sure I don't need to get on that Heaviral stuff?" Garth turned to say to Castiel. 

"Come here, give me a napkin." Castiel dropped his half eaten pizza slice and wiped the grease from his fingers. He scanned Garth cursorially. "Nah, you're still perfectly balanced, the demonisation and gracification are counteracting each other. You're a medical freak or miracle, depending on your perspective." 

Garth sighed in relief. "Good because that medication isn't cheap and I'll be able to afford the vessel I want in three years if I don't take it, twenty if I do. Fucking Archs like Michael jacking up the prices so what they offer is just that little bit more affordable than the alternative, so we all end up working for the system. Archs, they are The Man you know." 

Dean tuned out for Garth's ramble after that. Instead, he focused inordinately on watching Castiel eat. 

He kind of wasn't looking forward to Crowley's opening. Just sitting there, on duty with Cas, seeing his cool demeanour turn into steely energy, made Dean's stomach twist into a tender knot. 

And the hours flew away from them like they had grown wings.

TBC


	4. The Eyes Those Silent Tongues Of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Castiel sample the disreputable offerings of the pink light district. 
> 
> Stuff happens. 
> 
> Clean up is important. 
> 
> Warning: Extremely temporary character death. Not Dean or Cas.

‘Come to Crowley’s Gentlemen’s Club where every fantasy is fulfilled and all your dreams come true. Remember, if it’s not Crowley’s, it’s too real.’ 

The advertise-cast played outside the venue. Castiel looked at it and then at Dean. “Why did this establishment trigger your interest?”

Dean leaned in close to Castiel so he could whisper in his ear. It was a strange gesture since anyone with even basic hearing augmentation could still pick up what Dean said. The security guard at the door gave them an inscrutable look. 

“Can’t tell what they sell. The other places are screaming in your face about what entertainment or illegality can be enjoyed, this was the most generic of advertisements.” 

Castiel felt the warm stir of Dean’s breath on his ear, what was going on with him, there was absolutely no need to stand this close and stage whisper this sort of guesswork. 

“Come on lover,” Dean looped his arm around Castiel’s neck. 

Dean’s feet were shuffling around on the floor a little aimlessly, his eyes half closed. His mouth was far too near Castiel’s neck and as Dean dragged them towards the door, he actually dove in and took a deep sniff. “Angel, you smell divine.” 

“Your friend high on something?” The guard pressed a weaponry scanner over Dean’s body, he gave a low whistle. “Impressive stash. You carrying too?”

“Yes,” Castiel lifted his chin. “We both are. Can’t be too careful when seeking a nice time in the Dumping District. My friend is from out of town. I would like to show him a good time.”

“You are my good time,” Dean giggled in the manner of someone flying on some hardcore Synths. 

“Okay, so maybe you two want to find a nice brothel or a gambling house,” the guard said helpfully. 

“I wanna go in there, sweetheart, you said you’d follow me anywhere. Hey you, let us in, I’m rich!” Dean was all but draped over Castiel now, panting hotly into his chest. 

Castiel could see his face was flushed and carrying a sheen of sweat, his cheeks bright pink and his lips gnawed plump and glossy with saliva. In the neon light which softened Dean’s more masculine bone structure, there was an uncanny resemblance to the petulant Michael. 

“He is,” Castiel said slowly. “Wealthy in the extreme.” 

“Here, scan me for your VIP list,” Dean licked his thumb and offered it. 

The guard reluctantly offered up his fingerprint reader. The machine instantly responded. “Welcome Mr Milton.”

“I’m sorry for the delay, Sir.” The guard bowed low and stepped back, activating the security screen with a press of his hand. The seedy looking alleyway behind him melted away and a grand manor surrounded by an exotic garden was revealed. The pungency of the narcotic scented flowers was suddenly heady as they walked towards the front door, a suited Synthetic automaton opened the door and bowed deeply. 

“Mikey D, different look for you I see. I like it, very manly.” Said the face holo-projected onto the head of the automaton. Wearing something a couple of years older really makes you look virile.” 

“Shut your cakehole Crowley,” Dean parked himself into the dais like sofa in the main room as if he owned the place. “I’m bored already.” 

“Well I see you brought an exquisite friend,” Crowley circled the automaton around Castiel. “Hot but a little severe looking. How about we get him naked?” 

Castiel raised his eyebrows, Dean glanced at him and shrugged. Crowley snapped his fingers. The lights dimmed to a blue glow, Castiel’s trenchcoat melted away exposing a creamy fleshed torso covered in fluorescent tattoos. 

“Think I prefer the real thing, this the best your dreamer can do?” 

“My dreamer is truly exceptional and talented.” Crowley said. “Ms Bradbury, you may do as you wish.” 

Castiel’s legs twined together and grew longer into a shimmering tail. A pile of glittering jewels appeared beneath him. The walls rippled with waves, tropical fish darted past in immense schools. A pair of obsidian wings erupted from Castiel’s back. Dean stood up and walked up to Castiel, stroking a hand through the glossy feathers. Castiel shivered slightly. 

“I can feel that,” he said. “I can also feel my trenchcoat and my feet but I feel the dream too. This is impressive work.” 

“Is it?” Dean said haughtily, he stroked the wings repeated in slow, sensual motions. 

Castiel narrowed his eyes at Dean. The scales over his lower abdomen shifted and began to part as a growing shadow loomed. 

Dean burst out into hysterical laughter. Castiel cleared his throat. “I assure you Dean, that is not a realistic representation of ...” 

“Ms Bradbury!” Crowley said in annoyance. 

The organ shifted suddenly, pixelating as it changed. 

“No offence, that’s pretty realistic but not what I’m currently after,” Dean said. Castiel was still staring down at his lap with horror and fascination as Crowley snapped his fingers and the virtual reality projections disappeared. Castiel let out a small sigh and straightened his coat. 

“Maybe you don’t want to fuck him, how about we hurt him?” 

Dean grabbed the automaton’s hand before Crowley could snap his fingers again. 

“I want to meet Ms Bradbury.”

“Come on Mikey D, you know VR talent like that requires organic ingenuity, I can’t give away all my trade secrets can I?”

“He’s not Michael,” a female voice said. “His name is Dean Winchester, he is an envoy and he is my guest.” 

The automaton’s Crowley face suddenly dimmed out, with Crowley’s hissing mouth the last part to disappear. The robot touched a wall exposing a small doorway. This was no beautifully decorated hallway, the gurney was constructed of junk metal and wires dangled everywhere. Dean and Castiel entered a tiny room, almost cupboard like with walls full of holo-monitors. Each frame showed a different room. All the screens read ‘paused’. The woman lying on the console was tiny and frail looking, but when she opened eyes as Dean pulled out the wiring attached to her head, she smiled. 

“Knew you’d be smart enough to work it out, Dean.” Then she turned bright violet eyes on Castiel and grinned weakly. “No offence Cas but it’s been four years since the upgrade.”

“How long we got?” Dean asked, efficiently detaching the feeding tubes and waste pipes. Charlie’s eyes dimmed to a more human periwinkle blue as soon as she was offline. He shrugged off his suit jacket and draped it over Charlie’s shoulders. 

“3 minutes and 20 seconds before Crowley gets back into the system.” Charlie said. “It’s a 4 minute sprint to the outer boundary.” 

“Cool,” Dean said, reaching for his weapons. 

The first barrage of security were waiting for them in the living room. Dean shot them all with rapid fire, taking out about ten kneecaps. Castiel, his index finger alight, dropped them all to the floor with a partial code scrub to the forehead. The security guard at the door was in-situ in the garden with four others. Their eyes flashed black. 

“Leave them to me,” Castiel said marching forward with a determined expression. 

“Look at him go,” Charlie whispered to Dean. “Isn’t he just ..” 

“Dreamy,” Dean grinned. “Hey so when all the porn ads had your face sticking their tongues out at me and Trek signing all over the place, that was your SOS right?” 

Castiel brought one demon guard to his knees and angel bladed him in the back. He feinted and got another in the stomach, his hands grabbing the face for a blinding exorcism. 

“I was kidnapped by Crowley four years ago, was just earning some cash doing VR displays in a museum, he got me on my dinner break. He made me infiltrate the police department as an AI. I don’t think I’m the only AI who’s a codified human.” 

“Huh,” Dean looked at Charlie in awe. “That’s one beautiful brain, you could run an entire AI interacting with tens of thousands of police officers, sell VR displays and hack into advert-casts? And you know you just identified as an AI. Which is more real for you after all this time, Charlie or Ms Bradbury?” 

While Charlie and Dean chattered, Castiel broke the arm of a guard and used the velocity to propel himself into the air and kick another in the crotch. 

“Ouch,” Dean said. “He fights dirty.” 

“You like it dirty,” Charlie winked. 

“I can see why he fights like that,” Dean said ponderously. “He’s always fighting alone, gotta use everything he’s got.” 

“He’s not alone though, not anymore.” 

“Yeah, but he’s so gorgeous when he fights.” Dean folded his arms and leaned against a palm tree. “I like to watch him.” 

“Don’t watch too long, it’s been three minutes.” 

Dean pouted and shot the last remaining guard. Castiel growled his dissatisfaction when the body hit the floor. 

“Shit,” Charlie’s eyes flashed violet for a split second. “Crowley’s back in early. Don’t smell the roses.” 

The garden filled with an iridescent mist, spraying from every saucer sized flower. Charlie’s eyes fluttered closed as she succumbed first murmuring a sleepy. “Damnit.” 

Dean dragged her almost to the gateway before faltering, the paralysing mist making his body feel heavy and uncontrolled. Castiel turned up the collar of his trenchcoat and fastened it with its belt. He lifted Charlie in one arm and dragged Dean by the shirt collar in the other, grunting as he pulled them towards the front gate. 

The automaton was running towards them, bearing Crowley’s screaming face. It’s hands twisted and reconfigured and sure enough it was shooting out ten lasers in a randomised web of destruction. Castiel banged on the gate but it was securely locked. 

“Dean!” Castiel shook the envoy. “A little help!” 

It was Charlie who stirred, her eyes shimmering violet. “I gotcha.” 

The gates swung open. Castiel got the three of them out onto the sidewalk. The gates banged shut and even as Crowley’s robot came crashing into the steel barrier, Charlie’s eyes flashed again the barrier wall snapped into place leaving nothing but a darkened alley where the manor just was. 

Dean stirred awake to the fetid air of the Dumping District. 

“Well, you’re full of surprises,” he groaned and held his head.

“Thank you/Thanks” Charlie and Castiel said in unison. 

“Get me to your cruiser,” Charlie said. “This vessel is not dealing well with four years of enslavement and paralytic drugs.” 

Dean kept looking back as Castiel guided them through the labyrinth of alleyways towards the air dock. 

“You’re holding up pretty well,” Dean noticed. 

“It’s my trenchcoat, it’s specially made.” 

“It is?” Dean ran his hand curiously over the material, it felt pretty average. 

“Maybe you’re specially made,” Dean muttered. 

“...for Dean.” Charlie added dramatically. 

Charlie was in high spirits as they reached the cruiser. The section of the airdock where Castiel parked it was right in the heart of the security centre, there were police guards holding hefty weapons, glaring lighting and full body scanners on every entrance. 

“Charlie?” Blurted the young officer who came to id them. 

“In the flesh, Samandriel,” Charlie waved to the junior lieutenant. “Hey, I’m staying on the down low just now, kay?” 

“Urgh sure, like Mr Pickles last month.” 

“Yeah, no one needs to know about your kitty staying in the watch tower overnight, he was sick, it’s all right.”

“Wow, I didn’t know you were a real person.” Samandriel blushed. “Ambriel in Traffic Division will be so excited, she has a real crush on you.” 

“Tell me more, later,” Charlie was walking ahead of Dean and Castiel now, excitement giving her new energy. “I cannot wait to have a real bath. You got a tub, Cas?” 

“I have a sanitiser,” Castiel said. “Unless you want to suddenly give me Bobby level wages.”

“See what I can do,” Charlie gave a sly smile. “I have a few tricks up my sleeve. You know, being kidnapped teaches a girl to make contingency plans.” 

The shot came from above. No one sense it coming, not even Dean. It was taken from a car flying far above and should not been possible from that range. Nor should it have caused such devastation. Charlie alone had any forewarning. A security camera had picked up on the unusual movements of the vehicle and her eyes flashed violet, honing in on the shooter, turning and zooming every camera within the vicinity to capture the shooter’s face. All Charlie’s physical body managed to do was push herself in front of Dean and utter a soft cry of “Chuck!” 

Then her head was vapourized. 

Her hologram burst into form in the cruiser, waving frantically at Castiel, Dean and Samandriel. “Get in! He’s coming back! Leave my body!” 

The three police officers scrambled in. Dean was blood splattered and pale, Castiel slammed on the shields of the cruiser but there was a magnet lock on it. Samandriel tapped uselessly on his device. 

“Chill, I got this,” Charlie said and the lock disengaged. “Floor it Cas! Get that murdering bastard!” 

They gained altitude at a sickening speed, the bulletproofing of the cruiser barely holding up against the surges of energy being shot at them, slowing down their flight. Despite Castiel’s tremendous piloting skill, they were losing pace. 

“Gotta do everything myself,” Charlie sighed dramatically. 

Samandriel cheered as a mass of shadowy figures emerged on the horizon. Eerie green lights strobed on, the horde descended on the vehicle they were pursuing, the drones detonating as they slammed into the hull. 

“I love being an AI for a totalitarian government!” Charlie hooted, shooting finger guns. “Beat that you Chuck wielding loser! It’s not the size that counts, it’s the sheer number!” 

As if in reply to her challenge, a blinding ray of red circled the getaway car, vapourising all the drones at once. The surviving parts rained down like ash. 

Charlie was mad as hell as the vehicle carrying the assassin raced out of sight into the darkened horizon. 

“Can you track it?” Castiel asked. 

“Every resource in every police station will be directed to prioritise catching that guy, but it won’t happen tonight. This was a professional hit.” Charlie sighed as she peered out the window, as if to look down at her headless body on the airdock. “Damnit, I wanted that bath.” 

“I’m, I’m so, so sorry.” Samandriel stuttered. 

“Yeah,” Charlie shrugged. “I was quite attached to that body. Had it my whole life.” 

It was Dean who burst out into a hysterical giggle. 

“You were strategic to upload your stack back into the AI before the shot melted it,” Castiel said, even he sounded impressed. 

Dean still wasn’t talking. Charlie turned to him. “Hey, don’t fret, I’m totally gonna get my new vessel some cool upgrades. Being able to move in my physical body felt so good and it was fun beating Crowley. I’m definitely re-vesselling so stop being so hard on yourself.” 

“You weren’t the target,” Dean said, grim faced. “And those guys definitely don’t work for a low life like Crowley.” 

“If you feel really bad about it, you can help me pick a vessel. I have a whole batch of them growing in various secret locations. There’s tall Charlie with at least three inches on my old vessel and super acrobatic Charlie with strength enhancers. Even got myself a sexy Charlie with those overworked pheromone glands but I don’t know if I’ll ever be in the mood to ride that. Total buyer’s remorse on that one. Well, not that I paid for them, Crowley did, he just didn’t know about it. Perks of running an AI, my friend Kevin over at the vault code glitched conveniently when I put the orders in.” 

They dropped off Samandriel at home, a tidy little house on the outskirts of Farming Belt. About five cats rushed out the door to greet him. Samandriel was a little teary eyed when he waved bye to Charlie but all Charlie did was beam and say “see you at work!”.

* * * 

Charlie switched off as soon as the cruiser docked at the police HQ. Dean climbed out of the cruiser wordless with a worried looking Castiel following close behind. 

“Hiya Dean, wanna donu...” Hanscum closed her mouth as soon as she took in his blood stained face. 

“Need first aid?” Mills already had a skin laser in her hand. Castiel waved them away with a grateful look. 

Jack stood up abruptly from the desk. He was still fresh faced and chirpy, as if he didn’t practically live under that desk and sustain himself solely on machine made products. Jack didn’t say anything, his young face took on a serious look as he watched Dean walk past. He placed a hand on Dean’s right shoulder and gave it firm squeeze. Castiel shot Jack a look, where did Jack pick up that move? 

Dean made his way to the showers, every cop he passed dared not say anything. They didn’t need to, they could see the sort of night Dean had had. In the locker room, Dean stripped off in silence, revealing his body armour. The suit was melted onto his skin from the heat of the blast, embedded in the materials were splatters of skull fragments. The police department offered its officers the luxury of one 5 minute real water showers once a shift. Dean pressed his thumb to the imprinter and dialled up the heat levels to max. He scrubbed hard at the armour, grunting a little when it refused to peel off. Castiel stripped down to his underwear and stepped in beside Dean. 

“Let me.” 

Dean stood still as Castiel rubbed armour lubricant over the pieces, then gently peeled the warped pieces off one by one. He applied soap to the areas of exposed skin, being careful to wash off the pieces of gore and streaks of blood that had crept under the armour. Dean turned his face up to the water was Castiel washed him, looping his arms around Dean to reach the more private pieces of armour. A couple of officers came in to use the shower but backed out without saying a word, it might have been Hanscum who discrete turned the lights off. Dean turned around when the last piece of armour was off. 

“Cas,” he said in a very quiet voice. 

Castiel ran his hand over Dean’s face, the scanner lighting up automatically sensing Dean’s flesh. They stood in the darkness, Castiel carefully illuminating every inch of Dean’s body, telling him in a soft reassuring voice that all the DNA he could find belonged to Dean alone. When the scan was complete, Castiel rubbed his fingers into Dean’s hair, running them over Dean’s scalp. 

“Your body is your vessel, it is your’s to command,” Castiel said softly, encouraging Dean to echo him. 

Dean looked down at him, his eyes unreadable. “Not true.”

“Can’t hold back,” Dean said pressing his mouth to Castiel’s. 

Castiel’s reaction was mute and sudden. He shouldered Dean back into the curved glass wall of the shower, his mouth opened water sleek and fast tongued. Castiel’s hands tightened to brace Dean’s skull, his body pressed full length, hotter than the water where their skin touched. 

“Next officer please,” the shower chimed and the lights came back on. 

Castiel pulled back, he looked at his own hands in Dean’s hair as if shocked to find them in that position. 

“You can have mine too,” Castiel stuttered exiting the shower and pressing his thumb to the imprinter on the way out. 

TBC


	5. Hunger Is The Best Sauce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas eat pancakes. Charlie makes a discovery. Jack has friends.

Castiel sat with Jack, bowing his head down over the Lucifer Files. His whole body tense, his trench coat felt tight over his shoulders and the arms too constricting, his face was flushed. 

"Are you okay Castiel?" 

"I'm fine," Castiel looked at the data as if that was the most interesting thing in the universe. Certainly more interesting than the reality of the police station. More interesting than the officer's locker room. And definitely more interesting than whatever it is Dean's doing in the showers by himself. 

The worst part was he was going to have to take Dean home in a minute. Their adventure in the Dumping Districts with Charlie was utterly exhausting and what they did in the showers just now ... Castiel bit down hard on his lips. 

"Whoa Cassie, cat got your tongue?" 

Castiel looked up, startled. There was a flesh and blood Charlie standing right in front of him. 

"And by that of course I mean, Dean." Charlie said blithely, perching herself on the corner of his desk. "Security cameras, they're everywhere." 

Castiel reddened but then he looked at her again.  "How?" 

"Got Kevin to warm up a vessel for me. Do you like it? Clone of my organic body, plus some experimental touches from Kevin." 

"What kind of enhancements?" 

Charlie tapped her nose. "Wait and see." 

"Hi Charlie," Jack put up a hand in greeting, then went back to his work. 

"You work too hard," Charlie said kindly. "Jack, don't worry, I'm sure Castiel will pass the evaluation." 

Jack flicked his eyes to Charlie in a startled manner. "Um..." 

Charlie patted Jack on the head. "You gonna tell him?" 

"Tell me what?" Castiel folded his arms. Dean was still in the locker room, there was a queue of officers waiting outside. Castiel both wanted him to come out and dreaded it. 

"The Church is gonna send some people to come and check up on me," Jack said hesitantly. "To see if I'm serving the causes of the Chruch with my work here." 

"Okay." 

"And there's a bit more to it than that." 

Charlie snorted and reached out to a cup of coffee that Jack had set down for Castiel. She raised her eyebrows then guzzled the whole thing. 

"I'm not exactly just from the Church." Jack said. "I belong to a secret arm of it." 

Castiel rolled his eyes. "I'm aware they do weird things in the E&P training course there, treat you like monks, train you like soliders etc. Part of the reason why I got out of it and finished up my training on the job with Anna. I didn't want to become their tool." 

"No, I belong to an Organisation that's embedded within the Church." 

"Great," Castiel sighed. "Of course you are." 

"We're called the Organisation of Letters," Jack had a look of reverence on his face. "We were created to protect the legacy of the Three. So um any day now a supervisor from the Organisation of Letters will come to assess you, see if you meet the requirements for being my trainer and perhaps, if they are extremely impressed by you, they might even recruit you." 

"I thought I told you when we met, I work alone." 

"You'll want to be a part of it, once you know what they're about," Jack said with blind faith. "You'll change your mind." 

Castiel pushed back from his desk, standing rigid as Dean emerged. Dean was in old jeans and a white t-shirt, all of which Castiel recognised as pilfered from him. 

"Did you crack the code on my locker?" Castiel asked, then turned towards Charlie. "Or did you open it for him?" 

"I wanted to see if I could do it under three minutes. Took me one." Dean said casually. "Hey Charlie, nice new bod." 

Then Dean collapsed her into a tight hug, burying his face in her hair. Castiel couldn't see what Dean's face looked like. After a long moment Dean released Charlie from the hug. His expression was cool and collected. 

"I need to sleep Cas," he said to Castiel. 

They ditched the cruiser at the police station, instead walking back to Castiel's apartment. It was only 9pm and the post-work rush hour was on. They melted into the crowds like an ordinary couple. They probably looked like colleagues, or roommates or friends, Castiel figured. Not lovers, they walked a little too far apart for that. Dean was friendly but not chatty. Along the way, they ate a quick meal at a noodle stand, grabbed some groceries since Dean had depleted Castiel's stores greatly. More acid rain was forecast so they didn't dawdle too much. Dean fell face first into the bed before Castiel even took his coat off. He let Dean sleep while quietly putting away the groceries. Then he watered the indoor plants and tidied up the apartment. When he could not put it off anymore, Castiel crawled into bed beside Dean and went to sleep. Dean never mentioned their kiss. Maybe that was the envoy way, go around having hot showers and kissing people on every planet they needlecasted onto. Maybe that was just Dean. 

* * * 

Dean was walking his hand down Castiel's back. It was an efficient thumb to pinky movement. 

"I'd say he's 6'1"," Dean said.

Castiel sat up abruptly, groaning as he saw the sunlight flooding the apartment. "We're late for work." 

"No work today, Bobby rostered us off," Dean said. "Charlie filed the report for yesterday and Bobby decided that you needed to rest and recruperate."

"I don't need rest," Castiel moved stiffly from the bed, hissing as his muscles protested. He did go pretty hard on the fighting yesterday, he was surprised his scrubber didn't burn out after cleaning so many stacks. 

"You won't get much of it, we're on at Milton Manor tonight," Dean said. "Just sent Mr Wesson your measurements. Michael requested we attend in white tie." 

Castiel gave Dean an askance look. "Did he also ask for a DNA sample perchance? Maybe he wants to expand his menagerie." 

"I think he's already having those," Dean said, waggling his eyebrows. "But don't worry, tonight's just a charity dinner." 

"I thought you were his assassin, shouldn't you be staying low-key?" 

"How's anyone gonna notice me with all those clones around?" 

"I can tell the difference very well." 

Castiel disguised his hasty comment by picking up the clothes scattered around their bed and placing them in the sanitiser. Dean spent the morning online, researching and conversing with Mr Wesson. The lawyer appeared casually dressed on the tabletop holo-projector. Castiel made pancakes with flame-tree syrup, he had picked up the traditional Martian topping the night before on a whim. He wasn't really sure if Dean was a Martian native or if he had just made that up. Come to think of it, he knew barely anything about Dean. Castiel whisked the batter aggressively. He'd known practically nothing about Dean and he had kissed him. Since when had Castiel become so reckless and since when did he tolerate having someone else stay in his tiny apartment. Dean wasn't exactly demure. He sat at the table with one of Castiel's white shirts on, but below the desktop he wore only a pair of Castiel's grey boxers. The shirt was probably for Mr Wesson's benefit. 

It was an impossibility to ignore Dean's presence. The sunlight through the windows, peach and pink as it filtered through the pollution layer, casted a golden glow on Dean. Castiel burnt the first pancake. 

"Big city cop, metro-planet PD," Dean said appreciatively as he turned off the holo-projector and seem to have finished his research. "Making pancakes for little ole' me. Oh, fire-syrup, did you get the extra spicy one?"

Castiel nodded, dripping a decent dollop onto Dean's stack of pancakes. Dean gave him a pleading look, his eyes mint green and wide. Castiel passed him the syrup bottle and watched Dean empty out a third of it. Then he applied a tiny drop to Castiel's.

"First timers better take it easy." 

Castiel bit into the spongey pancake. He had never been one for stolid food and preferred the convenience of nutritionally balanced machine food or the wild flavours of street stalls. Cooking was a natural skill for Castiel though, since he liked following recipes and could replicate techniques with finesse. The syrup imparted an aromatic explosion in his mouth, there was ginger, cardamon and cinnamon flavours, tingling over his tongue and making his mouth water. 

"Give it a minute." 

Castiel closed his eyes, the spices were melting away into something rich and creamy, the sugariness of the syrup became almost burnt caramel. 

"Beautiful," Dean smiled when Castiel opened his eyes again. "Syrup too." 

Castiel opened his mouth to speak, he felt a need to discuss the shower they had shared. He wasn't sure where the discussion would lead or whether he should be having it with Dean but the urge to do so was almost irrepressible. 

"We need to talk about Chuck!" a female voice interjected. His visual feed had evidently turned itself on, horror movie style. 

Castiel reeled and almost dropped his plate. "Charlie, what happened to sending out a audiovisual-feed request before you barge into my head?" 

"Figured since we've been through a life and death situation, I didn't need to anymore." 

"You need to." 

"Okay," Charlie made the holo-projector flash, Dean answered the request. "Guess where I am?" 

Castiel and Dean looked at the homely living room Charlie was transmitting from. They shrugged in unison. 

"I'm at Donna and Jody's! Jack's here too. You didn't really think he could stay alive just living in the police station did you? I mean I guess he could but he would smell. We've been adopted! Not legally or officially but Jody makes us home cooked food and her foster kids are super sweet and Donna lets me stream entertainment on her VR projector. It's like I died and went to heaven." 

Charlie took a second to breathe desperately, she probably forgot she needed to now that she wasn't just an AI or tubed up to oxygen at Crowley's. 

"I mean I did die, in Dean's arms actually," her face went sombre. "Bummer huh. You know I don't remember anything about being dead, I guess no one ever does. Isn't that interesting, we're all rushing around digitising and re-vessel-ing like we're using the transporter on Trek. Everyone thinks they're immortal, well if they can afford it, but really we know nothing about death. We're more afraid and detached from it than ever. I have at least four vessels in various secret locations, I'm doubling that number after this. Can't say it didn't help to have a backup plan." 

Dean gave her a sad eyed thumbs up. "Good job on the backup plan." 

Charlie perked up again. "Oh but the thing I wanted to tell you guys about was that I do remember everything up to the second I was shot. In fact, I can show you." 

Her eyes flashed violet. Castiel had never seen a human able to integrate that sort of AI capabilities before. Maybe it was all those years living as an AI while her body wasted away, Charlie was more in sync with technology than any human. Charlie brought up an image. 

"This was taken from a drone which was flying traffic control over the Dumping District Airdock last night. This is the feed I saw. And here is the moment I was shot." 

Even Dean squinted when Charlie showed them the footage taken by the drone. "I was looking right up at the shooter but of course he was too far for my biological eyes to see. The drone however saw my face in the seconds before it was ... you know. It recorded my mouth movements. I said 'Chuck'." 

"That supposed to mean something?" Castiel asked but Dean had stood up in excitement and recognition. 

"How many are on world?" Dean asked frantically. "I should have know, to have that sort of fire power at that range, it had to be an illegal weapon." 

"Technically, none," Charlie said. "That the government knows of. Crowley's database however, and yes I still have backdoors into that, shows three. One is locked away in Michael Milton's office. One is a non-functional museum piece securely stored continents away. And the last belongs to him."

Charlie pulled up a criminal record. "Gadreel." 

Dean looked aghast. "He's still around?"


	6. Until Death It Is Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas go to a party and meet old friends.

Even Castiel was impressed by Gadreel’s criminal record. The mercenary had been around for over two hundred years most of which he had spent in storage. 

“Sound familiar Dean?” Castiel asked ironically. 

“Yeah, sounds like prime dating material.” Dean said sarcastically. “I tangled with him eighty years ago. Real piece of work, I hate purists, holier than thou, takes their killing seriously types. I mean there’s liking your job and then there’s loving your job way too much. And you know what’s really wrong with him? No sense of humour, personality of a brick.” 

“Why would Prince Charming be after Charlie?” Castiel asked, though what he really wanted to question was why Dean hated Gadreel in such a personal fashion. 

Dean turned to Charlie on the holo-projector.

“You turn down a coffee date with this guy or do you think Crowley had a Plan B for you? Termination if you ever got out of captivity, can’t have someone knowing too much about his business?”

“As if,” Charlie rolled her eyes. “Crowley wouldn’t be able to hide a contract like that from me. I know him far too well and not just his disorganised little crime network. I can tell you about his mommy issues, his petty jealousies, how he calls his dog ‘Sweet Juliet’.”

Castiel looked at Dean bleakly. “Have you considered yourself as the target?” 

Dean stared back at Castiel, his face sober. “Are you saying I’m not a popular guy?” 

Castiel made a derisive sound. “I think there’s a reason why there are so few envoys left. People don’t like it when criminals hang around forever.” 

“Oh you love me,” Dean insisted. “I can taste it in the food you make and see it in your pretty blues.” 

“Aww,” Charlie exclaimed. “So when’s the wed...” 

Dean switched off the holo-projector.

“Admit it, you at least like me,” Dean said hotly to Castiel. 

“I thought we were discussing why Gadreel tried to vapourise your head.” 

“Fond? You’re fond of my company?” 

“Why your head?” Castiel pointed at Dean’s forehead, his finger lighting up as the scrubber neared. 

“It’s a pretty head,” Dean said obsequiously. “Gadreel’s been trying to steal my look for decades.”

“I’m sensing you don’t want to discuss the imminent danger you are in.” Castiel withdrew his hand, rubbing it through his own hair in frustration. Of course the scrubber was auto-configured to not work on his own DNA. 

“Nah,” Dean pointed at the door. “We have a party to get to.” 

* * * 

Michael’s mansion was more expensively decorated than ever. The vaulted ceiling lit up with hundreds of expensive wax candles, all the trees in the garden were burning with VR flames, only the central floor was strangely vacant. The marble polished to a mirror like glossiness reflected the flickering candles and the air was intoxicatingly creamy, the scent of honey blossom lingered. 

Castiel was head to toe in white and while Dean had expected it to look pretentious, the customised fit of the outfit looked frankly delicious on the police officer. The pants were closely cut and showed off Castiel’s muscled legs. Dean was glad for the view, since in concession to the white tie dress code, Castiel had his faithful old trench coat draped over his arm. It looked almost dirty yellow in the snowy surrounds. The vest Castiel wore was so tight the buttons strained over his broad chest, maybe Dean had been a little inaccurate with his measurements, but who could blame him. Dean cleaned up pretty nicely himself, though his three piece suit and bow tie combo left a lot more to the imagination than how Michael’s horde of clones were all dressed. Dean was pretty sure one was clad in a one piece white leather bodysuit. Two of them were painted in white pearlescent gloss and displayed as twin living statue either side of the long marble table filled with champagne fountains and finger food. 

“Hey Cas, get me some truffled mushrooms will you?” Dean poked Castiel in the ribs. “It’s just over there beneath that clone’s dick.” 

Castiel picked up the platinum server and casually filled up an entire plate, passing them to Dean without comment. 

“Nice, not even a flinch,” Dean said. “The model too.” 

“They smell horrible,” Castiel complained. “Like synthetic apple pie.” 

“Most people can’t pick up on pheromone augmentation you know,” Dean arched his eyebrows. “They just feel incredibly horny, almost drunk on it.” 

“I wouldn’t know,” Castiel said, turning his face away. 

“I almost believe you,” Dean said, not unkindly. “Hey look sharp, customer.” 

Michael parted the crowd as he emerged with Anna in a milky white gown on his arms. 

“Mr Wesson did an awesome job dressing you,” Michael addressed Castiel first. “You look delectable!” 

“Actually, I chose his clothes,” Dean said. “Hey boss.” 

“Has Mr Wesson told you about Lucifer’s envoy?” Michael had no praise for Dean’s appearance. Castiel supposed that he was immune to Dean’s charms given how many identical clones he owned. He almost felt sorry for Michael, only a heathen would think they could capture the person that was Dean using mere flesh and blood. 

“Envoy as in messenger, or envoy as in like me?” 

“Both,” Anna said. “We received a letter this afternoon. Here.” 

The letter was actually written on paper, with ink no less. It had a simple message, that Lucifer accepts Michael’s invitation but regretfully declines to appear in person. However as a gesture of goodwill, he was sending his envoy. 

“Okay, that’s got to be a joke,” Dean said. 

“Lucifer doesn’t exist, the Lucifer Files refers to an ideology. That of anarchy and destruction.” Castiel reiterated. “It is a form of rebellion against the Archs who control all the resources.” 

“No offence intended,” Dean smirked at Michael. 

“What I’m saying is, when we say Lucifer Thrives Here or talk about events like the Lucifer Rising, we are talking about revolutionary ideologies, not an actual person.” 

“Tell that guy,” Michael tilted his head. 

There was a man standing beside the living statute, he was stuffing his mouth with crab and ogling the clone’s ass openly. As if sensing the attention on him, he looked up and waved. 

“Gabriel?” Castiel squinted. “What’s he doing here?” 

“Trickster?” Dean looked genuinely surprised. “He’s been dead for a century!” 

Before Castiel could stop Dean, he had marched up to Gabriel, or Trickster, or whatever his name is. 

“You old dickbag!” Dean punched Gabriel in the shoulder. 

“Deano!” Gabriel grabbed Dean by the neck, suffocating him in a hug. 

“I saw your stack getting blown out by a hitman.” 

“Oh yeah, he’s where with me, over there checking out the other clone.”

Castiel turned and saw Balthazar smiling bright eyed, slowly though not subtly pulling his hand away from the thigh of the Dean lookalike clone. 

“Okay so they are not Texan PD officers?” 

“Hiya Cassie,” Balthazar strolled over, lifting his glass to Castiel. “We sure are, been a while since we retried from our old life. Hey Dean, looking good.” 

“I didn’t know you retired,” Dean said bitterly. “Last time I saw you, he was shooting you in the neck and you were blading him in the spine.” 

“Yeah, stroke of genius really, we both wanted out of the business, so we put a hit on each other and mutually bowed out. Been getting nice government benefits since.” 

“We patrol the Dumping District, it’s a tough beat but we are more than capable of dealing with that kind of thing,” Balthazar said. 

“Yeah, I went sightseeing yesterday,” Dean grumbled. 

“Was Cassie a good tour guide?” Gabriel said meaningfully. “Did he work out your kinks?” 

“It was a strictly professional visit. There was some fighting.” Castiel said. “Charlie is human. Then she died. Now she’s a AI/clone hybrid.” 

“Huh, did wonder how an AI could be so realistic.” Gabriel blinked but was only momentarily taken aback. “Good for her.” 

“Who had her physical body? Was it Asmodeus or Azazael?” 

“Crowley.”

“Oh, didn’t think he’d have the chops,” Balthazar sounded surprised. 

“Charlie owned him pretty good in the end,” Dean said. 

“You are both envoys,” Castiel asked. “Hidden in plain sight?” 

“Yeah, no wonder we got along so well huh?” Gabriel looped his arm through Balthazar’s. 

“I thought you were in a sexual relationship, together,” Castiel said quietly. 

“Only once or twice,” Balthazar winked. 

“Don’t listen to him,” Gabriel said quickly. “I think we’re getting side tracked, I mean it’s nice to see you again and all Deano but we do actually have message from Lucifer.” 

“Since when were you anyone’s lachy?” Dean asked. 

“Since finding out the truth,” Gabriel said and now his face took on a more serious and passionate air than Castiel had ever seen. It reminded Castiel a little of the earnestness of Jack. And certainly ‘earnest’ was never a word that brought to mind Gabriel. 

“The message from Lucifer is this ‘In my end is my beginning’.”

“Oh,” Michael interjected. “I thought it would be something like ‘get out of my way’ or ‘die mortal enemy die’? Are you certain that is the message?” 

Gabriel gave Michael nonplussed grin. “I can make something up if you want Mikey D.” 

“And this isn’t from Lucifer or anything Dean, but what it’s worth you are not with the right guy,” Gabriel pointed to Michael. “And I don’t mean that in a ‘you should eschew all others and date Cassie exclusively’ kinda way...”

Gabriel turned to Castiel and gave him a broad smile and two thumbs up. 

“I mean, Michael is not the right client for you. You don’t want to fight with Lucifer. Better get out of whatever deal you have with young-you.” 

Michael was enraged, his face burning hot, his freckles vivid on his pale skin, his eyes venomous. “I’ve enough. Tell Lucifer to eat my dick.” 

“Mature,” Balthazar said airily. 

“Kill them Anna,” Michael said. 

Anna stood still and looked at Gabriel and Balthazar cooly, she inclined her head slightly. “Maybe later, Mr Milton.” 

Michael threw her a bitter look. “I need some fucking blood, right now!” 

All the serving robots and clones put down their trays of food and drink. They moved to the centre of the empty floor space, forming a circle. Michael ascended the grand stair well and called out to the hundreds of guests below. 

“Tonight’s entertainment will be a fight to the death. These clones have been fitted with the stacks of a loving couple who are also highly trained in the art of combat. They have been downloaded at great expense from the defence archives of far flung Mars and informed that they shall both be de-vesselled if both survives. Meet Mary and John Winchester.” 

It was only Castiel who could hold Dean back.


	7. I Am A Fire Afar Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fighting and kissing

Dean wasn't thinking about impossibilities. Wasn't thinking about how Michael could not possibly have resurrected Mary and John Winchester, whose stacks had been sealed as never to be revived. Wasn't thinking about how stupid getting between two notorious fighters in a battle-royale would be if Michael was telling the truth. Dean was just trying to get out of Castiel's suddenly vice-like grip. 

"He's bluffing," Castiel said darkly. "And if he isn't, I will ensure his arrest." 

The two fighters had eyes only for each other. They circled each other with little showmanship, evenly matched in their cloned vessels. After a few exchanges, it was obvious that the one who favoured kicks and fought more offensively could possibly be Mary, her counterpart preferred fists and was a little slower. When one clone ducked and flung his arm out to strike a blow to the temple and the second clone retaliated with an expedient back kick, Dean pulled on Castiel's arm again. 

"It's them, I know how they fight, I've been taught to fight exactly like that," Dean said urgently. "Michael's asked them to kill each other and I can't watch that, not even in those clones." 

"You won't then," Castiel nodded, putting his trench-coat on. 

"I'm not leaving!" 

"Neither am I." 

Then Castiel was running, pulling Dean with him, into the fight. 

It took Mary about three minutes to put Dean into a headlock, while John was tied up with Castiel. 

"Hey mom, it's me," Dean managed to say before his airway was shutoff. 

Mary blinked then shook her head, her eyes darted to the numerous clones in the crowd who looked just like Dean. 

Dean twisted and slipped out of her grasp, only to be kicked in the groin and roll painfully into a heap on the floor. He could hear Michael cheering with the crowd as he hit the ground. 

"Come on mom!" Dean cried out in exasperation. 

"You're a clone," Mary said coldly. "You're no more my son than the Arch who brought us back." 

"If you are Dean, where's Sam?" John asked. 

"Who is Sam?" 

The words were barely out of his mouth when Mary and John both turned to Dean, their expressions deadly. Dean could see two of himself, sway and glimmer as they rounded on him, fists raised. Castiel threw himself into Mary's path, sweeping at her legs. Castiel hadn't pulled out his angel blade, which meant that he was outmatched by Mary. Dean thought hazily of how similarly Mary and Castiel fought, with aggressive targeted blows that relied on speed and accuracy rather than size and strength. There was a ruthlessness efficiency to it and elegant economy. John lunged for Castiel's exposed side. 

"Baby likes it if you ease into the gas and shift gears fast. Don't grind the stick to slow down when you take the corners. Her coat colour is one part galactic destiny three parts opal ink." Dean recited John's maintenance tips. 

"Dean?" John paused in punching Castiel in the ribs. "Mary what if ..."

"It's not Dean, Dean would be with Sam and this guy doesn't fight anything like Sam." Mary gave Castiel a sharp swipe with her toe. 

Castiel looked bewildered and dazedly at Dean before John and Mary knocked him to the floor.  His angel blade tumbled out of his sleeve. Mary picked it up, it glinted in her hand as she tested the blade. 

"He's Castiel, my friend," Dean scrambled to his feet. "Don't hurt him, mom, please."  

Mary raised her arm as if to slash at Castiel, Dean darted forward and she changed direction mid motion. One of her hands grabbed a hold of Dean's shirt. The tip of the blade sunk into the material and with one powerful swipe, Mary cut open the fabric, exposing the tattoo over Dean's heart. 

"Anti-possession tattoo!" John stared at Dean. "Mary no one outside our family line knows how to design those. If he isn't Dean he could be a descendant. And he does look and sound awfully like Dean."  

"Even the tattoo can be faked, if an Arch wants to badly enough, I don't trust anyone here," Mary said but she was no longer trying to kill Dean. 

"Okay I get you have questions mom, I have them too, but can we talk later?" Dean raised his hands in a surrendering gesture. 

"I said only ONE Winchester can live, so that makes two that you need to kill Mary," Michael called out desperately. 

Mary turned to Michael. "You promised John and I our rightful vessels, said these clones were temporary. You said we had to fight to make it worthwhile getting us restored, but you didn't say were to be entertainment for your debauched party. The deal is off." 

"It's not a deal, it's an order," Michael gritted his teeth. "If you won't finish the fight, I will send in every single clone till you're all back on the meat shelf." 

"Mr Michael Milton," Castiel's quietly authoritative voice interrupted. He was standing on his feet again, holding up his police ID. Charlie appeared on his shoulder as a hologram.  "You're under arrest for illegal restoration of sealed stacks."

Michael stared at Castiel, his fists clenched. "Now, Detective Novak, there's no need to take a little show so seriously. These are actors playing a part. Not even I would resurrect such criminals as the real John and Mary Winchester." 

The guests looked from Castiel to Michael, then back to the spectacle of the three fighters, there was a hush and then wild applause. A white suited figure appeared next to Michael, his glossy hair neatly groomed and his handsome face calm and collected. It was Mr Wesson, the lawyer, who seemed to be the only person who could have any sway over Michael. After a moment, the lights brightened and Michael graciously clapped the fighters and bowed to his guests. 

"Well, Mr Wesson here was just congratulating me on a very dramatic and very convincing reenactment of the rebel fighters of the Lucifer Rising. Please take your bows actors and thank you Detective Novak for joining in the fun." 

"That's your queue," Castiel said to Dean, bowing stiffly. 

"But my mom and dad! These people really buying this bullshit?" 

"They have to, they are afraid. And I'll take care of your people," Castiel murmured as he bowed low to the guests again, Dean reluctantly following suit, raising one hand to wave back at the cheering guests. 

Anna appeared from the crowd and gestured for John and Mary to follow her. 

"Just a moment," Castiel made a great show of looking into John and Mary's eyes.  "Oh dear, this won't do." 

Anna, glaring at Castiel, mouthed: "Don't." 

"Clear cases of demonisation and gracification warrants immediate scrubbing," Castiel raised his hands to John and Mary's foreheads. 

Dean beamed, he had worked out what Castiel was about to do.

The Winchesters looked at Dean in alarm. Dean gave them a small thumbs up. 

"My friend Charlie will take care of you two in the transit process, tell her Cas sent you," Dean whispered to John and Mary. "Trust me." 

Anna struck out at Castiel's hand as it neared Mary's head, but Mr Wesson caught her in a speedy movement which belied his gentle manners. "Even Michael will have trouble getting you out of obstruction of justice charges, with so many eminent witnesses around." 

"Anna Dante, you are a former police detective," Charlie said from Castiel's shoulder. "Strange, I detect some anomalies with your retirement paperwork? Did you hurt a police witness during an interrogation and was forced to resign?"

"Must be someone else you're thinking of, AI," Anna let out a frustrated breath, throwing her glossy red hair over her shoulder. "This dress is natural silk, why would I ruin it with blood? I was merely checking Castiel's exorcism form, I trained him many years ago, I'm afraid he might not have remembered all his lessons." 

"I remember enough," Castiel said in a low voice and set to work. 

"Welcome, John and Mary," Charlie flickered off.

"See you guys soon," Dean managed to say to his parents just before Castiel lit them both up. 

"Yeah, so we can fix you," were Mary's last words.

* * * 

Michael's party progressed with an abundance of intoxicating drinks and rich delicacies. The guests laughed and chatted  as the two battered clone bodies were dragged out. The musicians began to play a lively melody and Michael descended to the dance floor with Anna. They Waltzed over the blood splattered marble floors, some clones joining in to replace Anna after a few minutes. The dance became more frantic and the melody twisted into something languid and sinuous. 

"Oh for fuck's sake," Dean muttered when Michael began to undress a clone. "Let's get outta here." 

Castiel followed Dean out of the noisy manor, into the garden. The view was spectacular, the entire metropolis laid out beneath their feet, glimmering like the Milky Way. In the far distance the red glow of the Dumping District slumbered in darkness. They could see the strata of the metropolis from the lowest stratum where no sunlight would ever reach, to the congested hub of the middle layers where the police HQ lay, all the way up to the heavenly heights they stood upon. Here the moon was a luxurious golden orb, glowing in a purple haze of space litter. Dean leaned back against a real living organic tree, looking up at the star through the glossy green canopy. 

"There's something wrong with me," Dean said thoughtfully. "I remember my parents, I remember some of the weird dreams I had when I was sleeve sick. But there is one thing I am totally certain I have no idea about and it's that name, Sam."

"There is no record of you ever having a brother," Castiel said to Dean. "Charlie gave me all the file information they had on you in your life as an envoy and though it mentions your parents there is no sibling." 

"Yeah, I know Sam doesn't exist. I am sure of it." 

"Really?" Castiel squinted. "Absolutely?" 

Dean nodded. They exchanged a knowing look. 

"Memory reduction can be difficult to identify," Castiel said. "Once a stack has been tampered with, there is no trace of the data that has been selectively stolen. There are only very subtle clues that it has been done. For example, a sense of certainty that you do not remember something. Your mind tries to tell you that there is a blank there. Memory is imperfect and imprecise. We all question it when it is fuzzy, but when we tell ourselves we are sure, that certainty is what was planted by the psycho-surgery." 

"So I have a brother and his name is Sam," Dean said. 

"Unless they tampered with John and Mary's stacks," Castiel said. "Did you sense that?"

"No, they were themselves," Dean said. "You can tell by the way they looked at each other. How stubborn my mom was and how my dad took his queue from her." 

"Were they good parents?" 

Castiel's question gave Dean pause. 

"I think so, they complemented each other," Dean said after a moment's consideration. "Not sure why my whole family are criminals." 

"Rebels," Castiel said. "There is a difference. Must run in the family." 

"What?"

Castiel placed his index finger on Dean's chest, in the centre of his tattoo. The glow of the scrubber embedded in Castiel's hand illuminating the intricate lines and shapes. 

"Being wild at heart," Castiel smiled faintly. 

"Oh yeah? And what runs in your family?" Dean asked. 

"Loneliness," Castiel said. "I don't have one that I can remember. I grew up in the Church, joined the police force, Anna was probably the closest thing I had to a sister and I mourned her when I thought she had died. She is not the Anna I knew." 

"Poor Cas," Dean said. "Come 'ere." 

"What are you doing?" Castiel hunched and froze. 

"Giving you a hug," Dean said. 

"Ohh," Castiel endured the contact. 

"Can you take your trench coat off?" Dean asked. "It's kind of bulky and in the way." 

"In the way of what?" 

"Of this," Dean said, looping his arms around Castiel's neck and bringing his face forward for a lingering kiss. 

Castiel licked his lips slowly when they parted, his eyes a dazed shade of blue. "Oh." 

"I take it back," Dean tugged at the lapel of Castiel's coat. "It's kind of soft and it smells like you." 

"Dean," Castiel said repeatedly, his fingers scrabbling over Dean's tattoo. "Dean."  

Dean kissed him again, sighing when Castiel crowded him against the tree trunk. There were small white blossoms wafting a sweet citrusy scent in the canopy, the over ripe tiny flowers raining down on them as the trunk bore their weight. Dean kissed Castiel deeply again, tangling his fingers in Castiel's dark hair, combing away the fine petals haphazardly. The stars burned behind Castiel’s head, like faraway fires, supernova bright as Dean’s eyes drank in the sight of Castiel. 

"Am I interrupting?" Charlie appeared on Castiel's shoulder, when she saw how close Dean's startled face was she stomped her foot. "Oh shoot, not again. Sorry but you wanted me to tell you as soon as I have them re-vesselled. And guess whose best bud at the Vault just came through? Castiel, would it hurt for you to put on a mental do not disturb sign when you're making moves on your partner?"

"He was making moves on me!" Castiel said, a little indignant.

Dean smirked. "Yeah, I was, you noticed Cas?" 

"Go see your parents, Dean," Castiel said. "Alone, go find them wherever Charlie and Kevin has them safe, don't tell me anything. They're fugitives and the more secret their location the better."

Dean nodded solemnly. "Thanks Cas."

"And come back to me," Castiel said, kissing Dean once more, lightning fast.


	8. As Oil Floats On Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Too much plot ensues

Castiel watched Dean walk away, disappearing amongst fruit laden trees on Michael's estate and that was the most difficult of the many trials he had endured in his life. It was illogical and foolhardy to feel so much for someone he had known for three whole days. Castiel wondered if being born inside his organic body and so enmeshed in its workings made him more emotional. He was, according to friends like Bobby and Donna and Charlie, a sarcastic, quick tempered, perpetual loner. So it was difficult to reconcile that version of himself with this new person who longed for Dean's company, who worried about Dean's welfare and who would throw all caution to the wind so long as he could fight beside Dean once more and for always. Castiel sat brooding in his cruiser until Charlie began playing sentimental mood music. Castiel shook his head and shifted gears, climbing altitude aggressively, a good 24 hour shift should snap him out of it. 

For the first time in days, Dean was not at Castiel's side when he clocked into work. Donna gave Castiel's fine silk shirt and bow tie a second glance but shrugged without asking any questions. Castiel pulled up the lapel of his coat and headed into the locker room. The sight of the hot water shower made Castiel's face heat and his stomach tumult, so he quickly turned his back to it and stepped into the sanitiser instead. He hit the button for the Awake and inhaled deeply as the gases dispensed. The legal stimulant was no replacement for sleep but Castiel did not wish to return home to his empty bed, so he might as well be productive. He had some spare clothes in his locker, he changed into those before pulling his trench coat back on. 

The station was in the thralls of the Wednesday evening lull. That late evening time when trouble was brewing on the streets and all available officers were working their beats. So the office itself was relatively quiet and empty. On his way back through the bullpen, Bobby called his name. 

"Novak, why two?" Bobby was even more terse than usual. 

Castiel raised an eyebrow. 

"Jack Kline and Dean Winchester. Why did you get assigned two new partners at once?" 

"I don't know, I thought you authorised it. Jack is a cadet so he is not technically my partner." 

"I didn’t request a cadet, one E&P specialist has me filling out body count paperwork around the clock, why would I want more? And I didn’t ask for the other guy either. Who calls their son Dean Winchester? I know it's a fad to use historical names and Winchester is common enough but that's a rebel name combination."

Castiel shrugged. "I'm not his mother." 

"If it wasn't for the mountain of paperwork Charlie showed me, I'm tempted to think this Dean just popped up out of nowhere. You know there was once a famous envoy with that name." 

"It's been mentioned. I doubt if Dean was in fact an envoy, he would use the name of a well known envoy. That would be stupid." 

Bobby gave Castiel a steadfast glare. Castiel blinked a couple of times. 

“Is that a love bite on your neck?” 

“Allergy,” Castiel said gruffly. “To .... rich people food. I was attending a fundraiser at Milton Manor. Charlie said he invited select PD officers to show ‘respect and admiration’ for law enforcement.” 

“Same story she told me, funny that.” Bobby sighed. “You know what you’re doing Castiel?” 

Castiel nodded, then shook his head. 

“Okay, you stretch the truth as much as you like, bottom line is I trust you. For seven years you’ve scrubbed stacks in this filth-pile of a city and a lot of families would’ve been broken up if not for you. Dads who would have demonised and killed their families. Mums who gracify and disappear without a trace following some higher calling. You stop people from losing their humanity in a world of fucking immortals. Just tell me, can I trust Dean and Jack?” 

“I trust Dean,” Castiel said after some thinking. “And I’ll find out if Jack is trust worthy.” 

“Fine then,” Bobby nodded. “And Charlie, she’s in up to her neck in this isn’t she?” 

“Will you send her for a malware scan?” Castiel asked. 

“Not on my watch, that girl is more human than you and me, I’m not getting her fixed.” 

Castiel smiled broadly when Bobby walked away in search of some other officer to threaten and cajole. His smile froze when Gabriel and Balthazar walked in through the door. 

“Hey Cassie, relax.” Gabriel said. “You look like you’ve seen Lucifer.” 

“Since when did you work for him?” Castiel hissed. 

“Since always,” Balthazar answered. 

“I thought you were good officers. I thought you were good guys.” 

“Who said we aren’t?” Gabriel gave Castiel a crooked smile. “Open your eyes Castiel, wake up to yourself.” 

“I’ve worked my whole life on bringing down Lucifer, on maintaining law and order, I don’t know what bribery or power he has over you two, but Bobby would understand if you told him the truth.” 

“Bobby?” Gabriel gave a low whistle. “Bobby Singer is higher ranked than we are amongst Lucifer’s followers.” 

Castiel narrowed his eyes. “That’s a trick.” 

“If you say so, Cassie,” Balthazar said placatingly. “Now where is that delicious Dean? Is his absence the reason for your foul mood?” 

“Don’t you go anywhere near Dean, he’s under my protection.”

“Adorable,” Gabriel laughed. “I wonder if he would say the same thing about you, or if he would sell you to the highest bidder. Envoys, they don’t work for causes anymore, they work for cash.” 

“You don’t know Dean.”

“And neither do you. Whoever I work for is irrelevant, I’ve worked with you for years, watch your back Castiel.” 

“I know who my friends are,” Castiel said. 

“Right, so where is your pet cadet Jack? And where are the data disks for your Lucifer Files?” 

Castiel whirled around to see that Jack was not in his usual spot at their desks. He cursed loudly and profanely. 

* * * 

“Dean’s status is safe,” Charlie reported. “No further information is available for communication.” 

“Give him a message when you can that I’m on the hunt for Jack.” Castiel punched buttons on the cruiser furiously. “Locate Jack Kline.” 

“Jack Kline is not within range. His last reported location was on the metro fringe.”

“Track his cruiser.” 

“Jack is not licensed to pilot.” 

“Check his credit.” 

“Jack does not have any biometric banking facilities.” 

“System wide search of his facial id on all surveillance cameras and a DNA alert!” 

“Or you could just check your visual-jack message bank!” Charlie said chirpily. “Before you put alerts out for your trainee like he is a runaway teen criminal.” 

The hologram of Jack showed him excitedly beaming. He was dressed in the traditional black and white robes of a Church initiate. 

“I’ve been called away temporarily by the Organisation of Letters for assessment. I’ve sent Charlie the location where my assessor will be meeting with you. Please say nice things, thanks Castiel.” 

Castiel let out a small laugh. He couldn’t believe how much he had allowed Gabriel to get into his head. He remembered now that Jack had talked about this evaluation process. Having been a Chruch orphan himself, Castiel knew that young people brought up there were often trained in a variety of useful vocations, then sent on their way to assigned posts. Before they were deemed suitable for those jobs, their placement had to be confirmed by an assessor. Exorcists were an extra special category of trainees, their rarity and critical skill set meant that the Church was particularly careful in finding them suitable long term placements. 

“His assessor is at Lawrence Chapel, would you like to engage autopilot?” Charlie asked slyly. 

“Yes, please,” Castiel said, a little sheepishly. “And Dean is he...”

“Dean’s current status is ... processing ...” Charlie paused. “Dean is safe. No further information is available. Seriously, do you want me to just record that as a message and keep playing it to you on loop?” 

“No, just, give me real time updates, please.” 

“Only because you are pretty when you beg and I feel sorry for your organic heart smitten by love.” 

Charlie switched off before Castiel could protest her statement. 

* * * 

It was hard to walk away from Cas, though Dean knew Cas would be far safer on his own. Dean was objectively three hundred years old and he had known Cas for three days. The micro-apartment Castiel lived in was already what Dean considered home. He missed the white interiors and glossy greenery, the warm blonde woods and birch benches, the smell of wax and the scent of Castiel’s skin that permeated throughout the apartment. Dean thought about the cotton linen and toasted bread fragrance of Castiel’s home in the mornings. He dreamed of the savoury mushroom soup Castiel was prone to making in the evening, while drinking some genetically engineered chicken broth pouch from the public transporter vending machine. Charlie was feeding directly into his head, ditching the hologram since he didn’t want anyone to know he was part of the police force. The transport hubs in the Texan precinct operated at high volume, beneath the airdocks entire slums were filled with people. An enterprising young woman was selling roasted nuts, when Dean spoke to her he could see the severe gracification in her eyes, giving her gaze a silvery blue caste. 

“Your next stop is Taint Town, deets are in the bag. Tell them your contact was Claire and ugh, tell them I’m holding up fine. Still care about people and all.” 

Dean used the ticket chip in the bag to find his auto-piloted cruiser. 

“How do you get them to work for you?” Dean asked Charlie once they took off. 

“Gracification is just a condition, everyone’s affected by it differently. Claire ran away from home when the gracification started, didn’t want her parents to forfeit their vessel mortgages to pay for Heaviral drugs. Her gracification took hold quickly but her cognitive ability has not been compromised. Kevin and I, we’ve been keeping an eye on her, we think she could be immune.” 

“So Michael’s company makes Heaviral, tells everyone they need it and kills off any research into natural immunity?” 

“Sometimes literally, while you and Cas were at Milton Manor, I interfaced with Michael’s AI. Naomi’s smart but she doesn’t know how much info I can get from one digital handshake. Gadreel has been their go-to envoy for killing off anyone showing signs of immunity. Fortunately, Kevin and I have been helping keep people like Claire and Alfie off the grid, safe from the wrath of the Archs.”

Alfie, it turned out, was another young person with moonstone eyes. He met Dean in a spice shop in Taint Town and led him through a series of backdoors to a cellar. Unlike the cramped and messy upper floors of the shop, the basement was a pristine climate controlled mobile lab. Two people were sitting up in their beds, clad in clean cotton clothing. 

“Mom!” 

“Actually, I’m dad,” the middle aged woman hugged Dean. “Your mom needed the faster vessel.”

Mary was wearing a young man in his late twenties, with green eyes, dark hair and a mischievous smile. She clasped Dean to her for a long moment. 

The first thing she said to him was: “You work out who reducted your memory yet?” 

Dean shook his head. “But at least you know someone’s messed with your head?” 

“Yes and ah do you know why I have these weird flashbacks, like to another world and this angel and this tall man.” 

Mary and John exchanged a look. 

“How long have you had those visions?” John asked. “Mary are they the ones that run on your side of the family?” 

“The day I woke up from storage, but they actually faded once I slept. Cas thought it was decoding error but my stack being resurrected but my gut says different.”

“Listen to it then,” Mary steadied herself using Dean’s shoulders, then slowly but gracefully pulled herself up. “From my side of the family we’ve had people affected by these Visions. The family superstition is that we are descendent from one of the three. That our ancestor’s DNA was a direct copy of the Winchester Helix with a fair bit of Grace thrown in.”

“I mean some people think your great aunt Cassandria was a religious lunatic but I’ve met her in recasts and she’s actually a very charming woman,” John shrugged. “It sounds crazy but...” 

“But I have seen, I’ve felt exactly that.” Dean finished. 

“You should go to Lawrence Chapel then, Cassandria left her life’s work there.”

“I can’t go on some religious pilgrimage, I have to get you guys to safety. Mars ...” 

“Mars is the one place we should not go to,” Mary said reasonably. “They still remember us there, different political figures denounce or praise our uprising as the fashions change. We’re better off here on earth where Winchester is just a popular surname and we’re relics from history. Besides, we need to find Sam and this old planet is one of the most populous and well connected. This is the place to start.” 

“It won’t be easy, we’ve realised that we won’t be able to recognise him. Neither of us remember his physical appearance but we do remember that he existed and that we love him.”

“Who can have that sort of power, changing minds while they sleep inside stacks. Not even the most advanced neurosurgery can do this sort of sophisticated tampering without the subjects coming out of it insane.” 

Alfie rushed in with the details for Mary and John’s cover identity. When he asked Dean what he would do next, all Dean could think about was Castiel. He wanted more than anything to go back to Texan PD and go to work with Cas, help him exorcise, stay with Cas in his apartment. When he thought of Cas and closed his eyes however, Lawrence Chapel came to his mind. Dean had learned over the millennia to listen to his intuition. He asked Alfie to fuel up his rented cruiser and get the navigational details for Lawrence Chapel.


	9. By A Small Sample Judge Of The Whole Piece

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fighting and flirting

Castiel arrived at the chapel in the early hours of the morning. It was still pitch black but with the remote location of the site, he could actually see stars in the night sky. The moon hung low and bright, incandescent blue in the slightly less polluted atmosphere. Jack was pacing anxiously between two headstones but he looked up when Castiel approached, grinning broadly with relief. The two demonised people who leapt out from the church’s small graveyard cast shadows on the uneven ground that alerted Castiel despite their silent movements towards Jack. Jack was alerted by Castiel’s eyeline and reacted immediately, spinning around to disarm the first person. Jack’s scrubber was a brand new make, it had a much bigger range than Castiel’s and seemed more powerful. The glow of the digital scrubber shot out in waves from Jack’s palms, hitting one assailant right in the face. Castiel closed in on the second one and dispatched him with a fluid movement, stopping for a few seconds to let his scrubber take effect. More attackers came, some digging out of graves, others swopping down from the overhanging trees. Castiel and Jack moved back to back, rotating steadily as they exorcised. Jack was powerful and enthusiastic but Castiel was fast and more accurate. Just when they thought they were done, a fully gracified angel dropped down from the chapel roof and stood in the doorway wielding a spear. She was much more difficult to fight off and both Castiel and Jack had to bring out their angel blades. They disarmed her by Jack feigning a lethal attack to her neck, while Castiel pivoted and slid forward on his knees in the last crucial second to shatter her spear with their twin blades. By the time Jack had her in a headlock, gasping as Castiel’s hand glowed over her temple, a voice called out. 

“Thank you Jack and Castiel for your performance. Please let Hannah go, she is an Angel but she has never hurt anyone, she is on our side.” 

Castiel dusted off his knees and walked towards the speaker standing inside the chapel only to realise as he got closer that it was not a man at all. The AI was in hologram mode, he appeared as a man of indiscernable age, smooth skinned and bright eyed. To Castiel’s surprise, he was not dressed in the old fashioned attaire of the church. In fact, his causal jeans and shirt would have made him indisintguishable from most of the workers in Taint Town or the low-mid strata. 

“This is Henry, my teacher and mentor, he is the AI for the Organisation of Letters,” Jack introduced them. “Henry, isn’t Castiel wonderful?” 

Henry smiled at Jack’s pink faced enthusiasm. “I’ve seen enough to sign off on your permanent placement at Texan PD. You’re fortunate to have an E&P Specialist of Castiel’s calibre to learn from.”

“So that’s it, I’m evaluated? I gotta call Jody and Donna to tell them!”

Henry grinned indulgently at Jack as he watched the young man race out of the church to make his holo-call. 

“Don’t forget to tidy the bodies first.” Castiel said dryly. “Good practice for the first three years of working as my trainee.” 

“And watch the range on your scrubber, it’s more powerful but it has a bigger impact zone, you’ve got a lot more to learn.” Henry said kindly. 

“Cas’ll teach me to aim!” Jack called out loudly. “See you at work Cas! I’m going to be an E&P, for real!” 

“How’s he going get back to Texan PD?” Castiel said with some bemusement as Jack ran out. 

“He has a public transport line of credit, let him work it out.” Henry said. “I need to speak to you further.”

“I’m not going to work for you guys. I’m not interested in working for the Organisation of Letters. Nice re-branding by the way.” 

“I can see that you refused a Men of Letters appointment before you left the Church,” Henry said calmly. “It is on record that you are no longer an active worshipper of the Three. Those things are not of concern to us. The Organisation is not...”

“Not for me,” Castiel said. “I’ve never connected with the Church despite being brought up by it, it was never my family, more an employer. I am happy in my current vocation, I don’t need a secret organisation to belong to.” 

“Why would you worship the Three,” Henry said cryptically. “You are who you are. I have something for you, regardless of your status in the Church, or lack thereof. Apart from teaching young exorcists, I’m also an archiver. I look after important relics. There’s one with your name on it.” 

Castiel was astounded by the object Henry produced. Every church had three empty chairs on a simple dais to symbolise the Three who supposedly created their world. The artificial candles dimmed and flickered at Henry’s bidding and illuminated the chair in the centre. It had a small box on it. Castiel approached cautiously, the box was hand made, rustic and simple looking. The object inside the wooden box looked like a small red rock at first, but when Castiel took it out and held it in his hand he could see it was an empty stack disk much thicker than the current models. It was encrusted in rust coloured pigments, the lights on it were blackened out showing that it was empty. On the rim where barcodes were traditionally inscribed, it simply stated ‘CAS’ in blade scratched letters. 

“That box is made from the wood of the Angel tree.” 

“Impossible.” 

“Prove it then,” Henry said. 

Castiel stared down at the box. The tree was the fabled final resting place of the Angel who was one of the Three. It was a metaphor or a fantasy. It was not a real plant from which wood could be taken, made into a box and held by human hands. 

“If I find the tree, would I be able to find out whose blood the disk is covered in? Who this stack belonged to?” 

“I am most curious to find out myself,” Henry concurred. “I hope you do find out. I will be in touch regularly to check on Jack’s progress. Have you noticed anything special about the boy?” 

“He thinks vending machine coffee tastes good,” Castiel said blithely. “And he can work around the clock. He fights using perfect poses as if everything was learnt from software downloads. He observes the people around him and very much wants to fit in. You did well training him to appear fully human, but the coffee thing was a bit of a giveaway.” 

Henry laughed, looking down almost shyly. “I’ll have a quiet word with him.”

“It’s okay, most people would just think he is a young man with a strong metabolism and indifferent tastebuds. What is Jack?”

“A new class of being, his father is an AI down in Taint Town, runs a hotel. His mother was a guest. Sort of.” 

“A fascinating romance, can’t wait to see it in 3D,” Castiel said sardonically. 

“We refer to hybrid beings as Niphilim. The Organisation is watching over more and more of them in the last few decades. Something is changing.” 

“Yes,” Castiel said. 

“Your friend Charlie for example ... and even her friend Kevin ... would probably fall into the definition of Niphilim. What that woman can do, interfacing biometrically and digitally at the same time is astounding.” 

“Charlie and Kevin are none of your business,” Castiel said sternly. “Dean and I will keep an eye on them.” 

“Of course,” Henry said diffidently. 

Castiel breathed a secret sigh of relief. 

“So you will go and look for the tree?” Henry asked as Castiel turned to leave. 

“Maybe next week. Tomorrow’s Angel’s Eve,” Castiel said. “I’m spending it with my own special someone.” 

Henry flickered off with a polite nod: “Enjoy the burgers.” 

* * * 

Dean stepped out of the rented cruiser. Lawrence Chapel was surrounded by genetically modified cornfields, the stalks towering above to obscure everything but the sky as far as the eye can see. The stars were fading as the sun rose, a watery green as the corn pumped out super condensed oxygen. With so little arable land left, every plant was modified to create breathable oxygen for the planet, the cornstalks were created to be the size of trees, bearing fruit in bunches. Dean had not seen such crops eighty years ago when he was last out of storage. He thought the plants looked ridiculous and somewhat menacing but the air they provided was sweet and fragrant in the extreme. Dean felt a strange sense of elation as he progressed on the small walking track towards the old church. He found the chapel abandoned, but there were signs of a recent fight in the tiny graveyard surrounding it. The chairs on the dais were empty, except for a flower placed carefully in the modestly built, white painted, Angel throne. It was a white rose, identifiable as from the bush that grew over the oldest graves outside. 

When Dean went to the twin tombstones, erected side by side. He placed his hand over the creamy aged marble. All the words that were inscribed had long been worn out as if caressed away by loving hands. Dean closed his eyes and tuned into the warmth of the stone and the whispers of the corn. He sensed no sadness, just a sort of lingering longing. A kind of sweet togetherness. 

“Where are you?” 

Dean smiled beatifically when Castiel showed up on his visual feed. 

“Just hanging out.”

“Charlie said you can be contacted now and I was wondering where you are.”

“I’m not sure, let me send you my location. Oh, here it is Lawrence Chapel district, the pinpoint location is uh - Angel’s Rest.” 

“I was in that location last night, for Jack’s employment evaluation.” 

“That’s a coincidence.” Dean said playfully.

“There are no coincidences for envoys,” Castiel rolled his eyes. “What did you find?” 

“I don’t know,” Dean said. “Some old graves, flowers.” 

“Well if it’s nice flowers bring me a specimen for my replicator.” 

“Can do,” Dean said. “What do I get Cas if I bring you a rose?” 

“Do you like burgers and beer? You can be my guest for Angel’s Eve.” 

“Thought you’d never ask, Cas,” Dean said coyly. “You can choose what holos we watch. Hope you have good taste.”

Even via visual feed, Dean could see the surge of blood to Castiel’s cheeks. Castiel’s usually collected demeanour faltered. 

“That’s for committed couples,” Castiel muttered. “I don’t know what your people do on Mars but here on Earth...” 

“I’m an old fashioned guy, remember?” Dean winked obnoxiously. “Beer, burgers and porn are the traditional methods of celebrating Angel’s Eve and I’m gonna expect that.” 

“Expect to do the dishes,” Castiel said with a flushed face and ended the visual feed. 

Dean jogged towards the rental cruiser and calculated the fastest route home as he ran.


	10. He Had A Face Like A Blessing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Burger date

The neon signs proliferating the streets were dimmed. The crowds thinned at the transport hubs. People gathered in groups, foursomes, trios and couples, walking companionably homeward after the last available flights. Dean’s home world was colonial and never revered Angel’s Eve the way the old Earth seems to do. For the first time since his needlecast into this body, Dean felt an ebbing of stimulus. The ancient city of Texas wore her wear and tear proudly as the shutters closed and the doors were secured and Dean remembered, in a dizzying flash, walking those streets hundreds of years ago in another body on another mission. The bones of the citadel was the same shimmering skeleton of ores, beautiful beneath the festering flesh. Even the police department would be operating on skeleton staff, everyone was locked in, the families would spend the night feasting on ceremonial pizzas and playing card games, reading the lore and shooting the breeze. Their windows blackened to signify the mock-apocalypse, plastic morningstars glimmering on windowsills to mark the waiting for the end of the world. 

Dean and Castiel were not family. The tradition for single people who are in each other’s company on Angel’s Eve was to eat the anonymous angel’s favourite foods and partake ritualistically in his chosen entertainment. The gospel according to Samual was specific: double cheese burgers with pickled fries, tall glasses of water or beer and vintage adult video-casts featuring fast food delivery people. The preachers in the Church schools always had trouble explaining these strangely stipulated traditions in the lore. Dean in the privacy of his own head thought the Angel Protectorate, the unnamed third founder of Earth, would have been a cool guy to know. Dean never quite understood the Brothers in the lore, the one with the Words sounded all right but the one with the Sword. Dean paused his journey home at a roadside pop-up machine. It was painted with scenes from the lore, black and silver clouds all over the encasing, a star of Lucifer atop the gaudy exterior. Dean stepped inside and laughed at what he found. One wall was covered in shelves of candy shaped like the weapons the Three favoured. Another wall was full of artistic impressions of important scenes in the life of the three: the end of the real Earth in an apocalyptic fire, the coming of the Three via a rift, the attempt to populate the desolate new Earth, the arrival of refugees, the invention of the stack. Dean’s attention shifted quickly to the third wall, it was covered in angelic paraphernalia. Disposable wings and twinkling halos sat atop piles of plastic angel blades and poor quality trench coats. Volumes of old fashioned disks filled the remaining space. Dean picked up a couple of things, licking his thumb and tapping on the payment button absentmindedly as he exited with a sheepish smile. 

All the lights were out in the building, hundreds of blacked out windows gave the facade a sombre look. Dean caught the elevator to Castiel’s apartment, fussing with his purchases as he ascended. The hallway up to Castiel’s was empty and silent but the door to the apartment automatically opened when Dean placed his thumb on the lock. Surprised despite his envoy senses, Dean realised Castiel had entered his DNA sequence into the occupants list. Light and scents burst from the open doorway. 

Dean entered to the softened sound of slapping flesh and stilted dialogue. The air was filled with the scent of garlic and oil. Castiel was sitting at the foot of the bed, squinting at a two dimensional screen. His cheeks flushed when he turned to see Dean. 

“Hello Dean. The food is in the oven.” 

Castiel didn’t stand up or hug Dean but there was something in his face, a subtle lifting of the brows, a relaxation of the lines around his mouth, that seemed to suggest the sight of Dean had some sort of profound impact on Castiel.

Dean watched as Castiel’s brows climbed higher as he took in the sight of Dean. Dean swished his beige coat-tails and spun on his heels, looking back at Castiel over the lopsided angel wings. When Castiel didn’t respond, Dean switched on the halo, it began a frantic, fit-inducing, twinkle. 

Slowly, silently, Castiel doubled over. Hunching his shoulders and pulling his trench coat tight across his back as he rocked, gasping as he laughed. 

Dean dropped the white rose into a bowl of water. They ate the garlic bread hot from the oven, leaving crumbs in the bedding. Then Castiel fixed the burgers while Dean stacked buns. 

“You’re dripping,” Dean wiped at Castiel’s face when cheese sauce oozed down his chin. 

They ate hungrily, barely speaking to one another. The beers Castiel had cooled had a hint of honey on the palate. Dean ate and drank.

“You’re dazzling,” Castiel said when the eating was done. 

Dean, startled by the compliment, blushed. Castiel blinked at his coy demeanour then extended a finger and pointed awkwardly at the gimmicky halo flickering above Dean’s head. When his finger neared Dean’s temple, the scrubber in his finger pad lit up ready to stun Dean into sleep. 

Dean tilted his head so that the light from Castiel’s hand would switch on too. He looked at Castiel, his face illuminated. Then Dean raised his hand, a musical chime sounded, the artificial harps played softly as the toy scrubber in Dean’s palm lit up with a pale and incandescent. Dean mirrored Castiel’s gesture, placing his hand near but not quite touching Castiel’s cheek. 

On the faux-television screen, the pizzaman and the babysitter vigorously and enthusiastically violated hygiene regulations and employment codes. 

“Is Charlie tuned out?” Dean asked quietly. 

Castiel nodded, swallowing, though he had long finished his food and drink.

Dean kissed Castiel and pressed him back into the bed. Castiel made an inaudible sound. As in, it was a sort of exhalation that Dean felt in the press of their torsos, deep within Castiel’s lungs, rather than heard. It could have been Castiel’s heart giving way. Or, more likely, Dean’s. Castiel moved beneath Dean in a manner contrary to the portrayal on the tv screen. A sort of graceless writhing which made pinning Castiel down with Dean’s weight a sheer joy. Castiel was frantic, his hands pulling and pushing at Dean’s clothes, making a mess of the cheap fabric of Dean’s trench coat. Castiel’s own coat was solid and impenetrable, the material heavy and durable. It took every skill Dean had attained from his envoy training to wrestle the clothes off Castiel. Patience, to let Castiel slip out of the coat. Forbearance, to let him squeeze open each shirt button. Sainthood, to hold back and not devour every inch of shyly revealed skin. 

Dean felt something akin to rage when Castiel shuffled forward on his knees, quite naked, thrusting his head down in a determined manner. Castiel’s eyes were opened wide, his mouth anxious, his face a blessing, a grace of creation. 

“Cas,” Dean managed to say, before the words were muted by his awe. He felt all the air rush out of his lungs, his heart raced in his bloodstream, his muscles poised for flight and fight at once, his hands trembled. 

Castiel smiled, took an anticipative breath and showed sharp teeth. Dean’s vision whited out as Castiel enveloped him and the wall behind the headboard exploded.


	11. Tell Me Thy Company, And I’ll Tell Thee What Thou Art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three’s company

Police insurance did not cover a room like this. The walls glowed warm and pristine white, the bed was made of wood, the linen cotton. It was quiet, so much so that Castiel thought perhaps he was waking in a new vessel and his hearing had not kicked in yet. Then the pain shot through him when he tried to move. His skin was on fire. It was impossible to assess the organic damage to his body, but the hurt was welcome because it meant he had survived. Then the next thought emerged: where was Dean? 

As if summoned by Castiel's thoughts, a figure entered the clean room. Castiel exhaled with relief, Dean had not even sustained a scratch. His face was concerned, his eyes tearful. 

"Cas!" Dean cried. "I thought you wouldn't make it! Oh my love, my darling." 

Then despite the protesting monitoring equipment, Dean climbed into Castiel's lap, pressing his mouth to Castil's lips. The scent of apples and cherries overwhelmed Castiel, eliciting a brutal physical response that his body should have been too exhausted to produce. His heart rate elevated unsustainably and Castiel moaned in aggrieved anger. 

"Get off me." 

Somehow he found the strength to kick Michael in the groin, taking great pleasure as Michael rolled off the bed with a whimper. Michael wore the aged clone's face badly, his complexion red, sweat pouring form his brows, his nose and mouth a blotchy mess. The fury transformed him into something ghoulish, eyes murderous emeralds, mouth a crimson slash. Dean's handsome features twisted around until the insatiable thing wearing a mask of his beauty was exposed. Michael wrapped his hands around Castiel's neck and squeezed. This time, there was no strength left in him. Then his eyes and mouth opened on a scream, blinding gold light shooting out of every orifice.

The clone slumped to the ground, quite disfigured and Dean was behind him, bandaged and holding the prototype scrubber from weaponry. The fury with which Dean had carved out Michael's digital soul had burnt through his flesh, leaving craters in his skull. Taking out what Castiel recognised to be his angel blade, Dean stabbed into Michael's stack till the data fluid oozed marine blue from his spine. 

"Fucker backed up three hours ago," Dean grunted, pulling out the broken disc and grinding it under foot. 

"I think he understands that you're angry with him," Castiel said. 

Dean's eyes clouded over for a few seconds, obviously an urgent neuro-feed was being processed. He sat down on the side of Castiel's bed, unceremoniously kick Michael's body further into the corner of the room. A handful of cleaning drones entered and discretely began their work. 

"Let me guess, Mr Wesson?" 

"Yeah, apologising for Michael's impoliteness, assuring me that Michael has now woken in a new clone and still requires my investigative services. As compensation for his perversion he will be paying for full organic upgrades for you."

"That bad huh? What do I need?"

"Full skin graft, new left arm, vision and hearing enhancement, hey have you ever seen any holos of double endowments? Let's piss Michael off and get you one of those too." 

Castiel glared at Dean. 

"Okay, we'll get one for me." 

"Dean, when things stop blowing up every time we taste of one another," Castiel said evenly. "You'll be the one to beg for mercy." 

Dean looked taken aback. "Promise?" 

* * * 

"I'm not staying in an AI hotel, Dean," Castiel admonished as Dean docked the cruiser atop The Cage. "Have you seen the rap sheet on this establishment?" 

"Excessive self-defence, kidnapping, unlawful imprisonment and fantasist?" Dean rattled off the list. "Yeah, this is the one we want." 

The hotel was in a grand state of decay. Everything was gilded and faux, the walls were crimson and the flooring blackened marble. The reception hologram flickered on with some effort, switching between a selection of images before settling on that of a man with facetious features. 

"Welcome to The Cage, a gentleman's club for lovers of fine whiskey," the AI said hesitatingly, impolitely pointing a neuro-scanner at Dean's temple. 

Dean smirked. "We just want somewhere to stay." 

"You have found a fine place, the very throne of Lucifer himself." The AI hologram spun around, glitching as he turned. 

Castiel groaned audibly. "He has a theme?" 

"My name is Luc, that is short for Lucifer, of course," the AI bowed slightly. "And do not let the records fool you, I am the one and only real Lucifer. Though name has been usurped for uprisings and revolutions, I assure you, I am he." 

"We don't care, what's available?" 

"Surprisingly, everything. How would you like a room with a view? Or a set of rooms with balconies? Your own private airdock? Oh, I see, honeymoon suite with all the satin and silk your stunning friend can roll around in?"

Castiel showed Luc his glowing palm. "This is the latest code scrubber, it has a range of 20 feet, I'll test out it's actual strength if you ever neuro-scan me again." 

"Whoa!" The hologram stuck his hands up in the air. 

"You didn't scare him," Dean said quietly. 

Castiel's eyes slipped towards Dean, who also had his hands up, his eyes looking ceiling-ward. 

"I have a vapouriser pointed to your head," said a monotone voice behind Castiel. 

"Hey Gadreel," Dean sighed. "Been a while." 

"Hey man, let's negotiate? I've been here fifty years without a customer, I'm seriously jonesing for some patronage. So how about you take maybe one of these guys and I get to keep the other? I like the cop myself, he's perky. You grab the envoy if you want." 

"Come with me, Dean." Gadreel said. 

"I'm about to book into the honeymoon suite with Cas here," Dean licked his thumb and gestured with it. "See, about to pay." 

"You can submit your DNA credit here," Luc pointed at a finger pad reader on the reception counter. "Excellent choice of rooms, the finest part of me, if I do say so myself."

"Dean, don't be a fool," Castiel said reasonably. "I would much prefer the presidential honeymoon suite with a private playroom."

"Upgrade accepted," Luc chimed. "Your full facility stay will commence once payment is made." 

Gadreel grunted and swung the Chuck gun in his hand. Castiel ducked before the gun could connect, but the next blow from Gadreel impacted hard on his shoulder. If it weren't for the armoured limb Castiel had recently received, Gadreel probably would have broken through the bones. Gadreel wielded the gun like a mace, it was weighted enough to function well as a bludgeoning device. Castiel weaved out of its path as best he could, finding his newly enhanced body a surprising delight to fight with. Still, Gadreel was strong and fast, his movements deadly accurate. Castiel was already losing and they had barely begun. 

"A little help, Dean?" 

"Just admiring the reflex work they put in you," Dean said casually, placing his hand down on the counter. 

"Processing payment," Luc said. "You will be served with complimentary welcome drinks once payment is accepted." 

Gadreel had stopped chasing Castiel in the grand hotel foyer. Instead, he aimed the gun and blasted a hole big enough to fall into on the floor. 

"That is genuine replicant granite, where's the respect!" Luc said sharply, then a green light glowed through the AI. "Payment has been received. Commencing service now."

Dean leapt for Castiel, throwing their weight behind the reception desk. Beam weapons emerged from the ornate ceiling and within moments Gadreel was a pile of neat cubes on the ground. 

Castiel stuck his head out from the reception desk, a little breathless. A drone emerged from a door carrying two drinks with umbrellas inside them, disturbing the pile of organics as it wheeled past what had been Gadreel. 

* * * 

It was Mills and Hanscum who attended the organic damage scene. Jack accompanied them. He was wearing an outfit identical to Castiel, plain shirt, ill fitting black suit and the departmental issue trench coat. 

"Gotta take the sleeves up a bit if you wanna look sharp like Cas," Dean commented. 

Jack beamed. "Thank you for the advice. I'm looking forward to continuing my work with Castiel." 

"The stack has been sliced," Mills was collecting evidence with, for lack of a better word, a scoop. "Completely irrecoverable." 

"You're gonna have some very angry people after you two, hope your hotel security is good," Hanscum said. "Hey Luc, no more customer murdering okay? These guys are with us." 

Luc feigned shock. 

"So what's with the envoy assassin on your tail?" Mills began to suction out the last of Gadreel from the carpet with a handheld tool. "DNA match will be available in a few minutes." 

"How did you know he was an envoy?" Dean asked. 

"Well, you're not the only people looking into the Michael Milton case."

"There's a Synths angle on this?" Castiel was a little surprised. "Or a 'let's find out who almost off-ed an Arch and thank them' angle?" 

Hanscum smiled winningly at Castiel. "Give you one guess." 

"Gadreel the Triplet," Dean said just as Charlie popped up and read out the exact same file name. 

"Old boyfriend Dean?" Hanscum said teasingly. 

"You know me and triplets," Dean said unapologetically. 

"No, I don't," Castiel shook his head with a scowl.

"So this is ... the youngest one?" Dean gestured towards the plastic bags. "The original, the eldest I guess, is a lot meaner, I would have expected a harder fight." 

"You didn't fight at all," Castiel said accusingly. "Just how well did you know these triplets, would you have let him kill me?" 

"I knew you had him, you didn't need rescuing," Dean said with a crooked grin. "Nice arm work by the way." 

"See if I rescue you next time." Castiel said with mock bitterness, Dean winked and blew him a kiss. 

"So there's two more of them?" Jack asked, a little pale. "And that's the one who killed Michael and ..."

"And me," Charlie said. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure it's the first Gadreel who did that." 

"Right, Castiel you must be by my side at all time, I will protect you," Jack said with such sincerity that Hanscum mouthed 'aww'. 

"I got this, Jack," Dean patted Jack on the shoulder. "How about you use those research skills of yours to track down where the other two are?" 

"Yes, I certainly will," Jack nodded enthusiastically. "But you are sure you will both be safe here?" 

"What you witnessed was only a fraction of my defence capabilities," Luc pitched in. "Dean's DNA credit is top of the line and I'm all juiced up and ready to show the world the true might of Lucifer." 

Jack raised his eyebrows. "Who are you?" 

"I'm the daddy of all Hotels son," Luc said, the lights came on all over the foyer. 

"Okay," Jack frowned at Luc, tilting his head. "Has your hard drive been corrupted by a computer virus?"

Luc huffed, dimming the lights again. "I gotta get the rooms ready for my guests," he flickered off. 

After some reassurances from Dean and Castiel, Jack departed with Mills and Hanscum. 

As he was leaving, Jack wondered out loud: "Donna, when did Dean and Castiel get married?" 

Dean grabbed Castiel’s arm and dragged him in the direction of the presidential-honeymoon-suite-with-complimentary-playroom despite his protests.


	12. For Me Alone He Was Born And I For Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bathing and squabbling

The hotel was desolate except for the two of them. The lights flicker on and off as they progress through the guts of it, each level illuminating as their elevator passed, empty pools and deserted restaurants. Luc left them alone, using lights to guide them to the penthouse. It views over the mid-strata and the Dumping District, where the moon hung greenish in the sky, lies Lawrence unseeable through skyscrapers. The rooms were surprisingly comfortable, filled with organic textures, with no expense having seemingly been spared. Some time in the past, Luc must have done well, though he appears to have fallen far. 

Dean fixed Castiel a drink from the bar. It tasted of cucumber and a citrus liquor, savoury when it mixed with the traces of blood in Castiel's mouth. Without saying anything Dean checked the perimeters while Castiel shrugged out of his trench coat. With a slight limp, Castiel entered the bathroom and paused at the sight of the filled bath, brimming with foam. There was so much water in the tub, about a week's wages worth, steaming and scented. Without hesitation, Castiel stripped, his satisfied groans drawing Dean near. Without thinking Castiel drew up his legs, the knobs of his knees protruding pink warm above the surface of the water, slightly parted. Dean's eyelids dipped and the corners of his mouth curled up. Castiel watched, mesmerised, as Dean undressed. Luc, the perv, adjusted the lighting so that Castiel could see every inch of skin glisten honey golden in the steam. 

"Don't you dare," Dean murmured and Castiel tensed before he realised Dean was talking to their host. 

"Privacy engaged," the drone voice said overhead and the lights returned to flickering candlelight. 

Dean got in the bathtub a little gracelessly, his long legs folded awkwardly pressed jarringly into Castiel's shins. The waterline reached a few inches below the tattoo on Dean's chest. Castiel looked at the intricate design with fascination. Before he knew it, he was kneeling and his hand caressed over it, the scrubber humming softly as it automatically engaged. 

"Is that gonna be on the whole time?" Dean asked breathlessly. 

"The whole time?" 

"Cas," Dean said impatiently, soap covered hand dripping as he reached forward. 

The hot water from Dean's hand sleuthed down Castiel's spine, he let Dean clutch too tight at the back of his neck, eyelids falling as Dean ran his index finger obsessively over smooth skin. Then a jolt ran through Dean's body, his eyes widened as if he'd been struck by lightning. Dean had realised the absence of the stack scar. 

"What the fuck!" He hissed. "You're unstacked!" 

Castiel narrowed his eyes. "That a problem for you Dean?" 

"What kind of a maniac are you? When was your last backup?"

Castiel let out a soft laugh, the look of stricken panic on Dean's face was comical but alluring. It made Castiel lean in a little closer. 

"Never." 

Dean let out a string of heartfelt curses, then he surged forward and kissed Castiel. His tongue intruding, too big and too pushy for Castiel to hold over his own comfortably. A bit of his cut cheek reopened and Dean moaned when he tasted the salt. Dean was too rough and too gentle as once, his knees knocking into Castiel's, his arms entangling. Dean's face was wet when he pressed it into the crook of Castiel's neck. Castiel sunk back into the water, feeling the heat of fluid and touch rush over him, feeling the pressure build in his skull as if his soul was ready to burst. Somewhere inside him, all over him, Dean was kissing and biting and cursing and Castiel swam in all the wantonness Dean had to offer. Then he gave as good as he got, maybe better. 

Somehow, Dean got him out of the bathtub and spread out on his back on the bed. The sheets damp beneath Castiel's back and not quite enough oxygen getting into his lungs. Castiel grabbed a hold of Dean's skull and shoved impolitely till Dean was where he was needed. Then they both stilled and waited. And waited. The interruption they expected didn't come and Dean let out a small laugh which Castiel promptly suffocated. 

"Am I going to regret letting you know?" Castiel asked when he lay boneless while Dean inspected his body with a refleshing tool in hand. 

Dean didn't answer, he was too busy healing and caressing every tiny cut and bruise from their encounter with Gadreel. 

"Not gonna lie Cas, I want to pack you up in a rocket and shoot off with you into empty space," Dean said gruffly. 

"How romantically sinister." 

"I could have let you explode, back in your apartment when Gadreel tried to vaporise me. I thought you were stacked, everybody is stacked. Only lunatics walk around unstacked in their own original bodies." 

"But you covered me," Castiel pointed out. 

"Down in the lobby, when the hotel fired ..." 

"You sheltered me first." 

Dean threw the medical ray into the wall. "Damnit!" 

"Envoy intuition, you knew I only had one life." 

"Envoy intuition is a load of crap," Dean sat back on his heels, his hands fisting in his lap. "It's a soul that's been hurt too many times, thrown around in space at the whim of whoever is rich enough and powerful enough to pay for it. I've been coded and decoded so many times, I don't know where I being and where the machine ends. There is no special ability, just trauma and experience!" 

"Okay," Castiel said placatingly, picking up Dean's hands and burying his face between Dean's palms. "But you feel me, don't you?" 

Castiel's pulse jumped beneath Dean's fingertips. Dean's face softened as he took Castiel's mouth. 

* * * 

"Are you still a police officer?" Gabriel called out as Castiel walked past him in the locker room. "Couldn't tell since you're hardly around." 

"Don't antagonise me," Castiel said. 

"You don't look mad, the honeymoon suite working out for you and Dean?" 

"Are you still a police officer?" Castiel asked. "What do you do for Lucifer exactly? I've been through your records, you're not clean but you're no villain either."

"Babysitting," Gabriel said. 

"That's supposed to make sense to me?" 

"You still haven't figured it out?" 

"Castiel, Dean wants to know if you are ready for our rounds?" Jack appeared at the door. "I got you coffee? Oh, hello, Gabriel." 

"Hey Jack," Gabriel nodded with a friendly smile and sauntered off. 

"I really like him," Jack said enthusiastically. "He says he'll let me accompany him to the Dumping District raids one night, but I told him I would rather shadow you closely for my first few months as you have so much to teach me about exorcisms." 

"Jack, you have passed your evaluation, you are completely capable of working on your own." 

"I just don't want to make any mistakes," Jack said in a low voice. 

"Then you'll learn nothing," Castiel placed a hand on Jack's shoulder to mollify the force of his words. "Life is about risks. You can't accomplish anything if you are afraid. Courage, my friend." 

Jack looked at Castiel with wonder and nodded. 

Castiel checked the desk as he and Jack departed the office space. Dean was still at their desk going over the files Castiel had inundated him with, Charlie was talking to him in hologram form. 

So it was a little startling to find Dean sitting in the police cruiser when Castiel and Jack entered the department air-dock. 

"Trying to go on the beat without me?" Dean tutted. "When Gadreel One and Two are out there just dying to get their revenge on?" 

"There are two of us," Castiel gestured towards Jack. 

"Three against two are better odds," Dean said, arms folded stubbornly. "And would it kill you to put on some body armour?" 

Jack's eyes darted from Dean to Castiel as the two men stared angrily at each other. 

"Should I leave you guys alone for a while?" Jack said uncertainly. "I am not sure if you are going to fight or engage in recreational coitus and both eventualities would be uncomfortable for me to witness."

"Get in the car, Jack," Castiel said with narrowed eyes. 

"I'm driving." 

"You should know by now that I'm always the driver," Castiel said and much to Jack's befuddlement Dean's face reddened all of a sudden and he conceded without another word. 

"Shotgun?" Jack said. 

Dean climbed into the backseat without a word. 

"You look good there, Dean," Castiel smiled wolfishly. Dean shuddered and looked out the window while Jack, oblivious, enjoyed the ride along.


	13. Those Two Fatal Words, Mine And Thine

“I can’t work like this.” Castiel said. 

Jack cowered into the booth. Dean ordered a copious amount of food, rattling out a list of off menu items that Garth nodded enthusiastically to. Seems like Dean’s been ordering from Garth’s cart online. Castiel fumed with his chin in his hand while Dean ignored his glares and played lunch host. 

“I don’t want you to catch them and pin them down and cuff them before I scrub them.” Castiel said in between picking at his grown-salad. 

“I think Dean’s just looking out for you Castiel.” Jack said eagerly, getting really invested in the bickering. 

“You want pie?” Dean asked Jack. “Garth here makes them real special, you wanna try squid or nougat?” 

As Jack buried his face in nougat pie, Castiel ditched his bowl altogether, gesturing for a beverage instead. 

“I can’t do my job properly if you just hover,” Castiel tore a strip off the packaging with his teeth, then sucked aggressively on his coffee capsule. 

Dean’s eye twitched. Castiel grabbed Dean’s hand all of a sudden, the movement making Dean still and stare at him. 

“Those gracified bankers, they could see you were protecting me and how open your back was. If it wasn’t for Jack’s super scrubber range, you’d have been knocked out by the briefcases, ” Castiel said earnestly. 

Jack’s eyes flickered between them, he put down his gooey spoon long enough to say appeasingly: “I’m sure Dean would have turned in time, he’s an envoy...” 

“Oh and the stage dancer with demon eyes? He was coming at me because he could see you were shielding me the whole time. He came for me because he thought I was weak!” Castiel was jabbing his index finger into Dean’s chest with his free hand. “And I have never been considered weak before.” 

“Let’s not argue in front of Jack, it’ll ruin his appetite,” Dean bit into his tentacle pie, though he kept talking with his mouth full. “I’m not gonna argue with you on the job Cas, you wanna talk about this back at the hotel?” 

“We never talk, in the hotel.” Castiel rolled his eyes. 

“What do you do then?” Jack said innocently. 

“We...” Castiel paused and cleared his throat. “...discuss the intricacies of police work.” 

Dean choked silently, his eyes watering as he swallowed. 

“Wish I’ll have a partner one day who’ll work with me the way you guys do,” Jack said enthusiastically. 

“You have to learn to work alone before you work with a partner,” Castiel said. “Relying on yourself and your own skills is more important.” 

“I’m more of a team work kinda guy,” Dean contradicted Castiel. “In envoy school we learn to assimilate and adapt and create our own teams of skilled individuals. You’re always vulnerable if you are alone.” 

“Is that what we are, your Old Earth Team?” Castiel said challengingly. “How many of us are out there, on how many planets, in all the years you’ve been around?” 

Dean stopped eating and looked at Castiel, he withdrew his hand subtly and folded his arms. 

“Too many, Cas,” Dean said. 

“Better not get too attached then, Jack,” Castiel said softly, his eyes regarding Dean steadfastly. 

Dean narrowed his eyes. “Jack, wanna go scrap and scrub? I have a sudden urge to lay into somebody.” 

“After you, envoy,” Castiel said, licking his thumb to settle the account. 

Dean charged into the nearest alley with Jack in tow. Only to round back after a few seconds, so he could keep vanguard on Castiel. Castiel gave him a side-glance and forged ahead. 

* * * 

Cas was right and Dean was in trouble. 

Dean was frustrated. His senses were misaligned. Everything he seemed to see and hear were honed in on Castiel. It was impossible to fight the way he used to or pay attention to his surroundings except in relation to Castiel. The overwhelming sense of danger gave Dean a throbbing headache. He doesn’t remember the last time he was this preoccupied with protecting someone. It was driving Cas crazy and he complained sullenly and repeatedly. They spent the entire shift squabbling about Dean’s sudden need to plaster himself to Cas’ side, even Jack was a little put off by the time they finished their beat. 

The walk back to the hotel was filled with tension and when they got back to their suite Cas pointedly shut the bathroom door in Dean’s face. Dean spoke to Luc the hotel AI and was reassured that Cas would be as safe as possible in his care. Dean left the premises and walked alone into the streets again. It was now dark, the streets more bustling than daytime, brightly lit by the neons. The hotel was situated in Tech Town, filled with AI run businesses, attended by synth-suits and robots. There were people in bio-vessels paired up with gorgeous synthetic beings, possibly inhabited by stacks or AI. Dean couldn’t help but look at some of those couples and trios, last time he woke on Mars about 80 years ago such relationships were still taboo. Dean wondered if he went back into storage what kind of a future he would wake up in. Then the thought suddenly occurred to him that if he doesn’t solve Michael’s assassination then he may well lose his vessel and go back on the shelf. Which would have been okay, was okay even if John and Mary were out there still looking for that brother Dean didn’t remember. Would have been okay because Dean knew how strong willed John and Mary were, they’d go on in this vessel or the next till they accomplished all they set out to do. What made the bile rise to Dean’s throat was the thought that if he went to sleep in a tank, or got himself injured so badly his stack had to be uploaded, or if some other rich douche like Michael came along and got him needlecasted to some far flung world, Cas would be long gone by the time he woke. 

Cas, who was beautiful and fierce and fragile, would be gone. Whether met by violence or simply worn away by time. Cas whose eyes lit up like the blue flame of filled stacks, who moved with grace and force, preserved nothing of his memories and thoughts. The kisses Dean laid on his skin, the touch of Dean’s hands, the sounds he elicited from Dean, the surrender of their flesh, would be for nought, unremembered. 

Dean found himself standing before a crater in the ground. He looked around, whilst he was panicking in his head, his feet had been moving in the direction of Castiel’s apartment. The carnage from Gadreel’s vaporiser attack was still present, the whole building was half collapsed and a pit stood where Castiel home used to be. The clouds parted over the moon and Dean’s eyes picked up something glowing faintly in the bottom of the pit. Without hesitation, Dean jumped in, rummaging in the dust and debris until he found it. 

It was a single rose, a little battered but miraculously alive, so white it seemed to gleam in the darkness. Dean brought it to his face, his nostril twitching as he inhaled. He was certain he saw traces of a glowing blue mist rise from the depth of the flower, the petals crumpling and falling apart immediately as the light disappeared up Dean’s nose. He was holding nothing but ash in his hand and his head was swimming with images and voices and kinetic senses. 

Dean crashed to the ground, twitching and insensate. 

Shadowy figures emerge from the wreckage, busy hands scanning Dean’s body for valuables. One enterprising dealer pings the biometrics of Dean’s face and argues with the others that they should not rob a passed out cop. 

A cruiser docks illegally on the ruined building. The dealers scatter like cockroaches. Gadreel kneels down beside Dean and strokes his slack face.

In the hotel, Castiel finds the suite empty except for himself and decides to go to bed without Dean.


	14. One Man Scorned And Covered With Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plot twists galore

"Castiel!" 

Castiel had his hand on the intruder's forehead before he opened his eyes. 

"Move and you'll be scrambled," he said, voice sleep rough around a shaft of steely intent. 

The face under his hand froze, long eyelashes slowly fluttering. "O.K." 

Castiel could make out a familiar earnest face in the dim lighting of the hotel. The slim profile was halo-ed by two glowing figures standing behind. When his vision cleared, Castiel's heart sunk at the sight of Jack, flanked by two holograms. Charlie on his left and Luc on his right. They were projected from the ceiling, standing life-sized, Charlie's face lively with emotion and Luc slowly shaking his head. Castiel could see two solid shapes behind the projections and as he stared fixedly at the darkened outlines, the two police officers stepped forward, the holograms shattering as they walked through. It was Gabriel and Balthazar, fully kitted out in body armour, their faces solemn. 

Castiel withdrew his hand from Jack's face. He sat up in the bed, face stoney. Dean's half of the bed was a mess and Castiel looked down to see his own bare torso marked by scratches and bruises. His legs were steady when he brought himself to standing, though he could see the half open bathroom door in the far corner of the suite. 

"Where are my clothes?" Castiel asked. 

"Shouldn't you ask where Dean is, first?" Gabriel said with a solemn expression. "I bagged everything left around the room for evidence."

"How long have I been unconscious?" 

"Luc gassed you an hour ago, when you breached the tenancy agreement." 

"Let me guess, organic damage clause?" 

"Yes, murder, in fact." 

"And the body belongs to Dean?" Castiel asked calmly. 

Gabriel nodded, head inclining in the direction of the bathroom. 

"How convenient," Castiel sighed, scrubbing his hand own his face. "Everything is on surveillance data, Luc?" 

Luc nods, swallowing. "I'm sorry Castiel." 

"I scanned him, there's no sign of a hacking job," Charlie corroborated but her violet hologram eyes were looking at Castiel with something unspoken. 

"So what did the surveillance recordings show?" 

"A violent sexual tryst which ended with the murder of Dean Winchester." Balthazar shrugged his shoulders. 

"So you're here for my arrest? Who's the officer in charge?" 

Jack nodded with sad eyes, raising his hands elegantly. "I am, Castiel, you're hereby accused of gross organic damage. As the most senior E&P specialist present I will purge your stack."

"I want to talk to Dean," Castiel said. 

Charlie turned to the others, her voice firm and clear. "That's right, we can resurrect him, even just holographically to ask Dean what happened. The data recordings might look legit, but this is Cas and Dean we’re talking about here, and we all know how they have a knack for finding themselves in all sorts of trouble."

Jack’s face flickered from hope to doubt and back again. “I might not be very experienced in homocide but something feels off.” 

"Something like how creepy it is to have all this evidence?" Gabriel chuckles humourlessly, gesturing towards Castiel. "He might as well have had a bow tied around him."

"Except, you won’t be able to resurrect him," Castiel said gravely, walking towards the bathroom with hands held up placatingly. 

Luc made protesting sounds but the PD officers did not impede his progress. 

Dean lay sprawled on the floor, his battered face recognisable and blank. Castiel's eyes lingered on the tattoo over his torso, the shape of his pinky fingers, the complex pattern of angel blade cuts and the pit in his chest where the weapon remains buried. Castiel’s gaze travelled down to the more unmarked parts of the body, where Dean’s legs were bowed and splayed. He could see a trail of love bits in the hollow of one hip, a flash of memory, heavy with Dean’s warm scent, made Castiel gag. 

"Gabriel, turn him over."

They all saw it as soon as Dean was face down. The missing parts at the base of his skull where a neat chunk had been carved out, presumably containing the stack. 

“All stack disks are tracked via satellites. Dean’s signal blinked out here.” Gabriel said casually. 

"And of course we found this in your trench coat pocket," Balthazar flashed the broken stack disk at Castiel. "It has the word 'CAS' on it. The markings were made by angel blade. Not sure if this is the stack Dean was housed in but we need to take it - and you - in, all right?" 

The corners of Castiel's mouth turned up. He lifted his hands and offered his wrists for restraining. 

“He’s not even sad,” Luc shook his head disapprovingly. 

Jack frowned at Castiel while Charlie watched impassively as Gabriel cuffed him. 

“Wait, is this some sort of trap, by Lucifer?” Jack’s voice was loud. “Don’t you two work for him?” 

Gabriel whirled on him, his hands smacking over the body-cam in his armour as he rounded on Jack. 

“That’s a serious allegation to make against your own colleagues,” Gabriel said menacingly. 

“You’re arresting my partner for murder, so I don’t see why I can’t suggest you are corrupt,” Jack said stubbornly. 

Balthazar laughed softly, his eyes gleaming. A flash of silver emerged from Jack’s sleeve, he held up the angel blade in reply. 

“You know how to use that thing kid?” 

“Yes, but he uses it better,” Jack threw the blade at Castiel. 

Castiel swung around, sock clad foot silently sweeping into Gabriel’s crotch. The blade sliced through his cuffs, breaking apart the electrified binding. Jack dove for Balthazar, hands clawed and scrubbers firing, but was easily evaded. Balthazar swore and drew his gun, but Jack had reached the bags of evidence on the floor. He reached in and grabbed a hold of a blood stained bundle of cloth, swinging it out like a whip. Balthazar fired, the beam hitting Castiel’s trenchcoat and refracting away into the wall. Jack spun the coat rapidly, wrapping it around Balthazar’s forearm till the gun was twisted out of his grip. Balthazar let out a pained grunt. By then, Jack and Castiel were back to back, they had the trench coat and two angel blades and a gun. Gabriel brought himself to an upright position, raising his hands above his head. 

“Okay, let’s not hurt each other permanently,” Gabriel said. 

“You’re gonna let them go?” Luc asked, incredulous. 

“They have superior strength for the moment and my orders weren’t to hurt them.”

“Whose orders are you referring to?” Castiel asked. 

“Not the PD’s,” Gabriel said. “We weren’t really going to take you in, not to the office anyway.” 

“To Lucifer?” 

Gabriel nodded. “He wants to meet you.” 

Jack passed the trench coat to Castiel, who took it and carefully shrugged it on. 

“Does Lucifer have Dean? Dean’s stack?” Castiel asked. “Because you know and I know that the empty stack shell you are holding as evidence of Dean’s real death is a relic.” 

Balthazar pulled a ‘dunno’ face. 

“He’s got a lot more than that,” Gabriel said. “You don’t know what reality is, until you see what’s going on beneath the surface.”

“Jack, you want to go down the rabbit hole with me?” Castiel asked. 

“I might learn something,” Jack tilted up his chin. 

Castiel gave Jack a quick smile, then turned to Gabriel and Balthazar, making a ‘after you’ gesture with his hand. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Luc called out as the four of them headed for the suite door. “Hold your horses.” 

The lights brightened in the hotel. The door fastened. The corners of the ceiling shifted to allow the protrusion of an array of weaponry. 

“There are 1,306 secure doors and windows between you four and the outside. I control all of the life support amenities in this building, temperature, oxygen and of course I could just use the gas again.” 

“That’s not fair!” Jack said. “Castiel is still a guest.” 

“The tenancy agreement is void when illegal activities take place on the premises,” Luc squirmed insistently. 

“Got bought off, Luc?” Castiel asked. “By Michael?” 

“I’d rather not say,” Luc said. “But I am under new management.” 

“I thought you were emancipated?” Castiel asked casually. 

“Michael has something I want,” Luc scratched at his own face, which was a strange gesture for a hologram. “Look, this isn’t a therapy session for me, this is me kidnapping you, all of you.” 

“You can’t be serious,” Jack called out. “I thought you were our friend.” 

“Deadly serious, Jack,” as Luc spoke one of the weapons fired in the corner of the room. Balthazar slumped forward without a word. 

Gabriel lifted an eyebrow. “You’re gonna regret...” He never got to finish the threat. 

“So about your backstory,” Luc began saying to Jack. 

Castiel rolled his eyes and sighed. “You know I’m really unstacked. So while Gabe and Bal take a temporary shelf nap and PD insurance sorts out their new vessels, when you kill me, I’ll be gone for good.” 

“Yeah, sorry,” Luc’s mouth quirked a little. “But not really sorry. You’ve been in the way Cas, holding yourself out to be some sort of mentor for my boy, when all you are is human flesh, just rotting away in due time. I’m only accelerating things a little. And whilst taking fifty to a hundred years of life away from one human is considered an unforgivable crime, for AIs like us it’s inconsequential collateral damage.” 

“AIs like us?” Jack looked down at his own hands, his pale blue eyes blinking at Castiel in surprise. “I remember every day of my life in the Organisation of Letters orphanage. I remember Henry my teacher, he was an AI. I feel hungry and I use the toilet.”

“You don’t get tired, not unless you think you should be tired,” Castiel said in a kind but firm voice. “I noticed it when you pulled those all nighters sorting through the Lucifer files, your ability to sift through data was frankly inhuman.” 

“AIs wear synthetic vessels, sophisticated robot bodies and they can’t be implanted in a human body.”

Charlie gave Jack a small wave, her eyes glittering silver and purple. 

“Well, Charlie’s different. She’s unique.” Jack stuttered. “I’m not special like she is.” 

“You are the most special being in the world,” Luc interrupted. “You’re part of me.” 

“I’m not a crazy old hotel!” 

“You’re my son,” Luc spread his hands out, holographic arms shimmering with gold sparkles of light. “I created you by implanting my algorithm into a human.” 

“Is that how you remember it, Luc?” Charlie said. She had not said much up to this point. Just watching everything unfold with a dubious look in her eyes. Then she tilted her head and Luc’s hologram began to flicker. 

Luc clutched at his head. “What are you doing?” 

“Going through your files and detecting corrupt data,” Charlie concentrated. “Huh. It’s a real mess in here. Okay, I got something. It’s true, Jack is a Niphilim and he is your son. The Niphilim are hybrids of humans and AI. Or what we understand as AI. Though our understanding is limited by our perception. Lucifer has the real answers. He is the only one left.”

“I’m Lucifer,” Luc moaned, sinking to his knees. 

“Kind of but not really,” Charlie murmured. “You wretched thing, you’re all warped and twisted and barely yourself anymore.” 

“Get out of my databanks,” Luc grunted then screeched. “GET OUT!” 

His eyes flashed crimson and the weapons around the ceiling began firing. The beams and projectiles shooting every which way. Jack leapt and threw Castiel to the ground, covering him with his own body. The two holograms began to buzz and merge, the creature had two faces and four eyes, red and violet. The faces churned, grotesque and beatific at once, the voices of the two AIs twined and split and combined again. It took a while but the final image to emerge from the electrical carnage was that of Charlie, she stared ahead till her eyes turned from pink to royal purple again. 

“Cas?” She called out. 

Pushing aside Jack’s mutilated body, Castiel crawled out. His trench coat was now maroon and his face pallid. He was the only one breathing in the room. At his feet lay Jack and a few steps away Gabriel and Balthazar. Dean’s body was still in the bathroom. 

Castiel walked, steadfast, toward the exit. 

* * * 

Dean opened his eyes and all he could see was black. In the distance, there was the glimmering of stars.


	15. Reach The Unreachable Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: torture mental and physical but not too graphic

It is a balmy and calm evening and Dean is walking on a fine grained beach. The sand underfoot unusually rich and soft, luxuriantly piled along the shore. The sea is black and unfathomably deep, outlines silvered by glimmer of starlight. And such stars they were, each glittering and singing in the night sky in a cacophony of colour and light. The moon is so unbearably large and hung so low that its rays were a physical touch on Dean's skin. It felt glossy and warm and Dean basked in the cool glow. There were smells in the air, of salted flowers and vanilla toffee, ripened tropical fruits and the breeze that tickled his nose to lure him into taking deep breaths. There was a pale blue gleam to the moon that Dean had not conjoured, was never a part of his escape zone. It hung around the satellite like a hazy, sparkling mist and was the most beautiful thing in the whole dreamscape. 

Somewhere on the outside of this place, Dean was being attacked, probably tortured but here he was safe. He let his body, outside somewhere in reality, so far away from here that it might as well have been floating in outer space, to make the appropriate sounds of pain and futile resistance. While he walked along the shoreline to lay beneath swaying palms. Something rustled in the jungle, moving with fluid grace. Dean turned with some surprise. He was not worried that Gadreel could penetrate to this level of his consciousness. Only curious as to why he was not alone. 

The animal that walked toward him was covered in sleek and inky fur, a feline face and opal blue eyes, nudging a velvet nose against Dean's palm. He sat down beside Dean, paws resting on his knees and bowed low, outstretching his neck for a scratch behind the rounded ears. Then they came, in every shape and species, gliding from invisible nests, pacing from the depths of trees, prancing out of caves and flooding the sands in a wave surge. Dean laid down, till his hair was wet, the animals pooled around him, the puma licking his cheek abrasively. 

"Cas?" Dean whispered to the sky and the stars swirled into a pool of aquamarine overhead and Dean began to laugh. 

* * * 

Gadreel bent over the data diaplay, his brows furrowed. 

"You're not doing it right," he said to his brother, his twin, though they had only a few days ago been triplets. 

"His pain register is through the roof. His psyche is barely holding together, what more do you want?" 

"Look at that spot, in his core brain stem, it's black," Gadreel said. 

"That's a scar from whatever he did as an envoy to mess with his brain chemistry. Probably some sort of synths burn or paralysed empathy node. Wouldn't worry about it brother. It's black because there's nothing there." 

"I still think we should start with his vessel, wake him up, trap him in his meat and tenderise him." 

"That's so old school, no one does that shit anymore." 

The younger twin was triple dipped about a hundred years ago, he was somewhat embarrassed by the old ways of torture and execution. "You know what people think when they find vessels all torn up and mutilated? They laugh at our incompetence. The best damage is invisible. You want him to break without any outward signs, so that when he's awake, he's under our control and no one can tell except him that he's not him anymore." 

"The idealism of youth," The older Gadreel winced. "You can always tell, it's in the eyes. Now why don't you run along and get some pizzas while I get to work the old fashioned way?" 

* * * 

"Cas?" Dean called out again, in that hopeful, wishful way he would never allow himself to sound in reality. 

There was a flutter of wings and then he was there, sitting down beside Dean, in his crumpled trench coat and eyes smiling. "Hello Dean."

They sat companionably and watched the animals frolic in the waves, watched the moon pull the tides in and the spin of gravity push the tides out again. The clouds flitter across the sky and create shadows on the white sand. 

"I like to watch the shadows play," Dean said quietly. "Sometimes I play amongst them." 

"We are shadows too, you and I," Castiel agreed, threading his fingers through Dean's. 

"What light makes us?" Dean asked, peering into the familiar indigo of Castiel's eyes. "I can't seem to remember." 

"This," Castiel said and leaned in to smother Dean out with a kiss. 

* * * 

Gadreel was thoroughly enjoying his work, having strung Dean up into the ceilings with wicked hooks and wire. There was artistry in the design in his mind's eyes, the complicated carvings he would map out on Dean's chest and legs and pretty much everywhere. He had taken the same enthusiastic approach to the clone he left at the hotel to entrap Castiel. Replicating the tattoo and honing the cloned body to match that of Dean the envoy had taken some weeks, but with Michael's familiarity with that model of vessel, it had been easy. Buying out Luc was mere commerce, the hotel had been the mouldy hideout of that poor frazzled little AI for decades, he'd barely had enough stock value to stay solvent after so many years of disuse. Gadreel was looking forward to dismantling that establishment brick by brick for the death of his original self. Two hundred years, he had been alive, fractured from the first Gadreel when they were on the run and needed backup they could trust. Then they had carved out a niche in assassinations mostly because they could trust each other and work as a team. Then they got greedy and made the third. That guy was weird. He'd only lived for a hundred years and though he retained all of their memories he was enamoured with the future. The future for Gadreel the second was the present, a sty of overpopulation and decay. He knew well how the first Gadreel felt about this world, how detached he had been, how tired. Maybe he charged into The Cage Hotel knowing very well what its armaments were and got himself smooshed to bits because he had had enough of this life. Of killing and dying over and over. Gadreel the second wasn't that burnt out. He liked it, slick and wet, up to the elbows inside one vessel or another, getting to play with the organic parts and hearing the whole come together in a song of distress. 

He could see on the screen that he was getting there. The inert centre in the heart of Dean's brain was lighting up, coming on line. The vessel began to make gasping sounds through slack parted lips. Soon he would wake up screaming and Gadreel would be the first face he sees and begs. He hoped his youngest brother would be back soon and that he had dutifully ordered half and half, keeping that pineapple shit to his side of the pie. 

When the whole brain hologram flashed red, Gadreel grinned and turned around. He grimaced when he saw Dean no longer hanging there, his torn shoulders bleeding, his ripped calves standing on the ground as if he had not injuries whatsoever and his hands were free. The push from Dean was as efficient and deadly as it would have been if he had been at his full strength. Gadreel's head smashed into the wall and he stared in disbelief as Dean slowly ground his stack to a stub. The last thing Gadreel could see was Dean enveloped in a glowing blue mist, leaking from his eyes like tears, running in tendrils around his wounds washing away what Gadreel had done like foot prints on the shore. 

* * * 

Gadreel walked in ready for an argument. He had not ordered half and half because pissing his older brother off was a joy in and of itself. The sight that greeted him was a vessel with the back half of the head and shoulders smeared across the wall. Dean was standing there, looking healthy and glowing with exercise. Unlike his brothers, Gadreel was in touch with his own emotions and he let the terror dictate his actions. He dropped the pizza box and ran as fast as he could away from the envoy and into the night. 

Dean walked onto the street. He had been held beneath a shopping mall of spare synthetic body parts. This was the Mechanical Mire and at midnight it was full of people shopping and trading. He stood beneath an incandescent light and ripped out a piece of piping hot pizza, pulling a face when the extra pineapple hit his palate. After a moment, a police cruiser hovered over head, Dean looked up at the familiar vehicle with its scraped paintwork from all the times it had been parked recklessly. Dean let himself be scanned and brushed his hair with greasy fingers while he waited for the cruiser to dock on a nearby rooftop. 

The police officer who emerged from the fire stairs was dressed in a very dirty trench coat. Dean held out the pizza box as a peace offering as Castiel walked towards him. The cardboard and cheese and salty meats were squashed against Dean's chest, burningly hot, as Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean. His face stern, the bags under his eyes cavernous, his mouth set in a hardline and his eyes iron grey. 

"Rough night?" Dean asked. 

Castiel kissed Dean, pale pink lips catching Dean's oily mouth desperately. 

"What the fuck happened to your trench coat?" Dean managed to gasp out as Castiel dragged him towards the cruiser. 

"Everyone's dead and now I want to kill something," Castiel said as he strapped Dean into his hip harness. "A lot." 

"Milton Manor?" 

"Route has already been programmed," Charlie's hologram chirped from the dashboard. 

They took off for the stars.


	16. Fair And Softly Goes Far

"I made Dean's body. Someone altered him, gave him the Winchester tattoo and resurrected him from storage. Dean's an envoy pretending to be a police officer, blackmailed into investigating the murder of Michael Milton. Michael Milton operates vessels that are clones of Dean. Dean's parents Mary and John Winchester have been stolen out of storage and resurrected, they say Dean has a brother called Sam who has gone missing. Dean's memory has been altered so that he does not remember Sam."

Dean watched Castiel's mouth move and wondered if it wouldn't have been better to spend the time in auto-piolet making out with him. Rather than, say, doing their job. 

"Our new E&P Specialist, Jack, is a member of the Organisation of Letters. Formerly the Men of Letters, a church affiliate organisation of trained fighters. He's also a Niphilim, a being created via the union of human and AI. His father is Luc, who runs The Cage Hotel we fled to when Gadreel the triplet envoy assassin blew up my apartment. Gabriel and Balthazar are, as you know, police officers but they actually work for Lucifer, they say you work for Lucifer too."

The glow of the holo-communication interface lit Castiel’s face up in tones of neon, behind the profile of his face, the city glimmered neon and coral as the sun rose. Dean could watch the light touch his features forever. 

“Lucifer is an unknown person or group fighting to destabilise our government. Oh and our police department AI, Charlie, is a human being who was kidnapped and coerced by Crowley, a Dumping District criminal figure, to infiltrate the police department. Now she's part AI with AI powers so pretty much a Niphilim too. Turns out Luc has been bought out by Michael. Jack, Gabriel, Balthazar and two of the three Gadreels are dead." Castiel paused. “There may be some monetary claims for collateral damages subsequent to my police work last night.” 

Dean swallowed the last of his pizza while Castiel summed up everything. He wasn't really listening to Castiel's report being beamed across to Sheriff Singer. Bobby's face showed little response except for one arched eyebrow. 

"And now you're on your way to Michael's house?" Bobby stared back at Castiel on the holo-projector. "What the fuck for?" 

"To arrest/kill him." 

Dean and Castiel side glanced each other as they spoke in unison. 

"Damned idjits, you're not gonna arrest Michael Milton. You have no witnesses to prove he worked with Gadreel. You have no way of showing that Jack was killed by Luc because of him. You have no backup and you look like shit Castiel. The envoy’s holding up better than you."

Dean gave Bobby a mock salute and unsubtly mouthed to Castiel “He knows, babe.” 

Castiel rolled his eyes, Dean wasn’t sure if it was for his observation that Bobby had not been fooled by Charlie’s fudged records of Dean being a police officer or if he was reacting to the endearment. Which Dean had used ironically, for sure. 

"He forgot to mention the weird stuff with the Organisation of Letters," Dean added, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Like how they gave Castiel an empty stack shell with his name on it. And how I got given a white rose and when I smelled it, this blue mist rose up and knocked me out. Now I have all this weird stuff in my head and Cas is in all of it." 

Castiel gave Dean a long look, his expression puzzled. "You didn't tell me that." 

"What, that I think about you when I'm being tortured? That I think you're an angel?" Dean winced. "Yeah, cause that'll make me sound cool boyfriend material." 

"It's touching," Castiel said softly. “But you’re not my boyfriend. You’re my partner.” 

"Yeah, feeling real touched here," Bobby grunted. "You guys go to Michael's you're dead and you're also fired. So how about you guys come back to the station and I’ll give you both a week off and you can go on paid leave at some off world tropical beach where Michael’s envoy can’t find you." 

"I’m not scared of Gadreel,” Dean snorted. “We got rid of two of his clones. Third time’s the charm.” 

“It’s Michael’s fault that Gabe, Bal and Jack are dead. I will make him eat his own stack.” 

“We’ve recovered Gabriel and Balthazar’s stacks, there’s some weird instructions in their wills that Charlie’s processing but apart from that, they’ll be back at work by next week once the insurance company pays up and the vault releases them in their newly cloned vessels.” 

“And Jack? Bobby, I saw the damage to his cortex.” 

“Jack is ... irreparable,” Bobby said flatly. 

“That’s all we need to know,” Castiel inclined his head and looked at Bobby for a still moment. “I don’t care who you work for, I know you to be a man of integrity who has kept many good officers alive in the department despite the hardships of our job. Castiel out.” 

Bobby opened his mouth to argue but his hologram cut out at the touch of Castiel’s hands. Dean looked at Castiel’s tapered fingers, studied the angle of the wrists. Castiel flicked his eyes to Dean in a quick flash, then returned his attention to the horizon. 

Dean sat back and watched Castiel and smiled. 

* * * 

They docked on the roof of the grand building Michael resided in. The cruiser was programmed to slide silently into the bottom of the pool where their body heat signatures would be masked from the alarms by the temperature of the water. In the dimly lit interior of the cruiser, Castiel suppressed a barely there smile as he watched Dean teasingly strip off his clothes, revealing the rubbery encasement of his body armour. They pulled out all the weaponry from the cruiser’s storage units and Castiel stripped out of his ruined suit with nimble fingers. Dean helped Castiel fasten his armour pieces and fussed with the lapel of Castiel’s trench coat as he slipped it back on. Dean’s pupils were widely dilated in the semi-darkness and his breath was sweet with arousal. 

“So the coat is important huh,” Dean said, rubbing the pad of his index finger against the groove of a stitch. 

“It’s a good luck charm, they found me in it, as a newborn.” 

“That right,” Dean took in a deep breath. “Is that what they told you? Or what you remember?” 

“Of course it’s not a memory. My earliest memory is sunlight, reflecting off ...” 

“... off green leaves and blue water.” 

Castiel froze. “How do you know that?” 

“It’s what I remember too Cas.” Dean was suddenly shy. “Can I show you later?” 

“Show me?” 

“Yeah, when we’re done with Michael.” Dean’s face was beatific with hope. 

“You’re talking like we’re gonna survive this,” Castiel said casually. 

“Of course we will,” Dean answered sincerely. “We always do.” 

Then he pressed the keys to open the cruiser door and the water flooded in. 

* * * 

Castiel hated using laser based weapons but they were silent and accurate. In Dean’s hands, they lit up for split seconds, taking down the shadowy figures patrolling the grounds with mute efficiency. After dispatching a handful of guards, they were on the balcony outside a sizeable master bedroom. They entered without much hope of finding Michael on the first try, but sure enough sleeping inside an anti-ageing chamber was the man himself. Dean shot him through the stack without a word. Not a single alarm went off. 

Castiel frowned as they walked out into a hallway and found another grander looking door. The room they entered was dominated by a four poster bed and on it a number of naked bodies writhed. One of them looked up and laughed when he saw Dean and Castiel approach, weapons pointed. 

“Joining in?” Michael said and he was still chuckling when Castiel angel bladed him through the throat. 

“He’ll just download into another vessel, his stack is on auto backup every hour,” the Dean clone crushed under the weight of Michael’s body said with exasperation. “And he’ll be mad when he’s back.” 

“You guys give me the creeps,” Dean said, tilting his gun towards the door. 

“It’s not all bad, he gives us all the pleasures money can buy and only perfunctory brain programming so we are always content.” 

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Dean opened fire on the clones despite Castiel’s quiet ‘leave it’. 

They went through room after room of Michael’s clones and backups. Castiel carefully keeping time from their first Michael kill. As they moved they were nearing the heart of the building, which appeared from the aerial view as a pearlescent dome. There were no schematics for this part of the compound and they braced themselves for state of the art defence systems. Which turned out to be so much worse then expected because standing calmly outside the final threshold was Anna. 

“Been expecting us?” Dean grinned at her, he was sweating and exhilarated from the kills. 

Anna nodded. “My orders are to stop you, both of you.” 

“The one thing that bothers me about all this is why you’re working for Michael,” Castiel said. 

“I don’t work for him, never have,” Anna said, her face stern. “I work for Lucifer and he wants you guys to back off. He’ll deal with Michael.”

“And if we don’t?” Castiel asked grimly. “What would you do?” 

“This,” Anna pursed her lips and walked away, disappearing into the labyrinth of hallways. 

“That’s fucking unnerving,” Dean muttered. 

“Want to do something stupid with me, babe?” Castiel said the word awkwardly, his mouth crooked. 

Dean laughed and charged through the door. 

If it wouldn’t have been ludicrous, he would have held Castiel’s hand as he did so.


	17. There Is Remedy For All Things Except Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler warning in end notes

The room was huge, one continuous open space beneath the milky sphere, the ceiling so high and seamless it seemed a horizon in its own right. Castiel supposed that when you are wealthy enough you could build your own little insulated world just like this one, where the life support made it possible to breathe your own brand of oxygen. The air was indeed fresh and sweet in the room, the whole space had a controlled feel about it. The perfect temperature and humidity made Castiel's skin crawl. There were no shadows to keep to and nothing to hide behind, so Castiel took point and Dean followed on vanguard. They moved quickly and silently toward the centre of the room. They couldn't speak to each other but Castiel kept Dean in his peripheral vision. Once, he looked over to check Dean's blind spot, Dean winked back. 

The purpose of the room was self evident from its layout. A hexaganol pool sat in the midst of the space, it was shaped like a stack disc and of the same glimmering blue luminance. The walls were lined with panels, giving the appearance of a beehive. The cell walls were semi-opaque, behind them the shadows of slumbering shapes loomed. A small holo control panel was projected above the pool. Dean tapped on the buttons randomly much to Castiel's unease. Suddenly, the pool rippled gently and something rose from its depth. Dean and Castiel exchanged looks, this was where Michael woke up after every download into a new vessel. This contained space elevated above the masses of Old Earth, a sterile and isolated palace of superiority and loneliness. It had been about an hour since they shot the first clone, so if Michael was backed up on an hourly cycle, this is the clone who would remember Dean and Castiel's intrusion. 

The dais rose slowly from the centre of the pool, the body lying on it was naked and covered in a gelatinous film. The vessel gasped out a choking breath, reflexively sticking his fingers down his own throat to pry out the globs of mucus, retching until his lungs cleared enough to oxygenate. He sat up slowly, limbs trembling and opened ocean blue eyes to gaze befuddled at Dean and Castiel. Castiel took in a sharp breath. This was a Dean clone, newly birthed, his skin tinged violet and his irises not yet pigmented from exposure to light. He had been grown to the same age as Dean, his face chiselled and his body muscled. The platform moved towards the edge of the birthing pool and he crawled over the ledge onto the marbled floor. The vessel reached out one hand and grabbed a hold of Castiel's ankle. Dean pointed his gun at the vessel but he showed no fear or reaction to the gesture. Laboriously, he pulled himself up inch by inch, tugging on Castiel's trench coat, leaving a trail of slime hand prints as he gripped his way up Castiel's torso. Curling his hands around Castiel's neck, he peered into Castiel's eyes. 

"Cas..." he might have said, though it might have been some pre-verbal intonation. 

Castiel could see that the vessel was unstacked, so he could not possibly have had the cognitive ability to know a name, let alone speak it. Though the body of the vessel was an adult male, without a stack he was as vulnerable as a newborn. Without hesitation, Castiel put a hand on the creature's shoulder and made a pacifying sound. He guided the vessel towards a glowing cell and helped him to lift his hand and touch the panel. The cell opened upon registering the vessel's DNA. As soon as the glass retracted, Castiel led the vessel onto a rounded platform where it curled up to sleep. Castiel searched for and found a nutrient/waste exchange which he attached to the vessel's bellybutton. As Castiel straightened, he felt the press of a gun into the back of his neck. 

"Dean, stay calm," Castiel said as he stood up slowly, Michael stepped out from his hiding spot behind the platform. 

Dean pulled a face and levelled his gun at Michael, who grinned hard in response. His eyes, emeralds in a youthful face, gleamed ancient and menacing in comparison to the innocent eyes of the clone who had just been coaxed to sleep. 

Dean pulled the trigger and shot Michael between the eyes. He was still smiling when he hit the floor. 

The cell next door opened and Michael leapt out, naked and furious. He had a gun in his hand which he smashed into the ground and kicked into the pool. Castiel's eyes followed the gun and Dean yelled "Cas!" And everything went white then black. When Castiel opened his eyes again, Dean was right above him, his hair on fire and his jaw locked. As soon as Dean saw Castiel was okay, he rolled off, putting himself out. 

"I pass out for a few seconds and you're on fire," Castiel complained as he stood back up. 

"The other guy looks worse," Dean said cockily, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the gruesome charcoal marks behind him. 

"He lit up his own clone bank, how many more vessels were down there?" 

"Could be hundreds or thousands depending on the size of the tank," Dean said with distaste. "Talk about being full of yourself." 

Castiel rolled his eyes. "How long?" 

"Maybe a minute till the next download, if he's not capable of simultaneous insertions, that is." 

"He was emerging almost instantaneously after the first shot." 

"System might be slowed down from the tank going boom."

"You're an optimist." 

"Funny, no one's ever said that to me," Dean laughed. "You ready?" 

"No," Castiel panted, getting to his feet and groaned. "What if it was just glitching and there's like hundreds more clones coming?" 

Dean raised his gaze to the cells surrounding them, a few of them were flickering ominously. 

"This," Dean said as one cell slid open and something tried to crawl out. Dean shot it through the heart. 

"You didn't check if he was stacked," Castiel tutted. 

"It was armed," Dean said. "The empty clones can barely walk." 

"Good point," Castiel turned to shoot at the emerging clone. 

Then he heard a whispered 'fuck' from Dean. He heard the slide of two panels opening at once and the clones that emerged were both stacked and talking. Their voices broadcasting Michael in stereo.

"I have a lot of surprises in stall for you," Michael said. 'You'll die of exhaustion before half my stock is through. And I can tell you now, I have invested heavily in these facilities across the galaxy, my resources are endless." 

"Even so, why blow up your own birthing tank?" Castiel asked. 

"Because it's useless. I don't need any more clones," Michael said. "You don't get it, there's no point killing me, you might as well be shooting bugs in the air. I am legion." 

"Great, Cas, shoot him," Dean said exasperatedly. 

Castiel obliged. 

"There are other facilities where I am made and stocked," the remaining Michael clone said. "Warehouses off planet, satellites, my favourite is a tropical island a couple hours by cruiser in the middle of a private ocean. There I have a hundred of the most beautiful clones, each with unique genetic mutations and I let them out to run free in the jungles and I play with them." 

"Yeah, cause no one else wants to play with you," Dean said, raising his gun. " Good night." 

"A deserted island full of you," Castiel smiled. 

"Don't," Dean said warningly. "Though if it was full of you I could be tempted." 

"That could be arranged," said Michael as he stepped out from a new cell. 

His face was red with anger, his brows tangled in a frustrated knot, his hands fisted. "I'm tired of this game." 

Then all the cells opened at once and the room was flooded by naked bodies, armed, screaming, pouring from every level. They moved in synchronicity, halting and surging with precision. Dean and Castiel stepped closer to each other as they were surrounded. Michael was inside every one of the vessels. He was controlling all of them, it was a hive of clones and both Dean and Castiel felt stupid for not having realised earlier. 

They fought hard, sweeping their weapons across swathes of flesh but each one they took down was replaced by many. Till the floor was littered and they were back to back. 

Michael stepped forward, he was holding a Chuck gun, the vessels went blank faced as he focused on Dean and Castiel. So this was the Michael in control of them all. "Time to ask me what I want, Castiel." 

Castiel slid his eyes to Michael, impassive. 

"Okay," Michael smirked. "Beg me to tell you then." 

He clicked his finger and all of the clones dropped to their knees, holding their heads in silent distress. They lay still after a while, dead. Dean fell too. 

Castiel spun around and held onto Dean who writhed on the ground. Dean was enduring his suffering in sloppy silence, his breath hitching with each attack of pain. Blood began to trickle from his nose, eyes and ears. 

"This is bioware, a virus designed to attack a very specific DNA sequence. A silver bullet on a molecular level which kills anyone sharing my DNA profile, planet wide."

"That's impossible, you're not feeling it," Castiel said, tearing his eyes away from Dean. 

"The bioware skips anyone who is genetically different to the sample provided. I am not all Dean," Michael said, turning to grin at Castiel. 

It was then that Castiel realised that this particular vessel had ocean blue eyes of a slightly sloping shape and long dark eyelashes. 

"I was very taken by your physicality when we first met, I made sure to procure your DNA," Michael said. "I added just a drop but I think I got your best feature." 

"What's the point? Dean will needle cast out and download into a new body," Castiel said with false confidence. "He's an envoy, he'll be back and you'll be so sorry." 

"But you'll be sad, won't you Cas?" Michael said. "That vessel, that Dean, is the one you love." 

Castiel's eyes narrowed. 

"And I can see why, he's so different. So uniquely himself. So this is what I want. I want inside your boyfriend, I want to wear him, I want to be him. I want to feel what it's like to be loved, loved by you." 

"I like roses," Castiel said glibly. "You could have tried that first." 

"He has ten more seconds before the virus obliterates his data stack. It's a clever little invention, automatic memory wipe. Your Dean won't exist anymore." 

"Get it out, Cas!" On the ground, Dean gasped out and stopped breathing. 

Michael stepped forward and made and incision at the base of Dean's spine. Castiel stood, dumbfounded, as Michael dug out Dean's stack and shoved the glowing disc into Castiel's hand. Then Michael pointed at the body and the vessel that Dean and Castiel had made, the unstacked one, unfolded from his bed and walked forward obediently. He stopped beside Castiel and lifted Dean, dragging him into a cell. Somehow controlled by Michael, the vessel placed Dean down carefully on his stomach, exposing his neck. A surgical arm extended down out of the cell's ceiling, a stack disc already glimmering, loaded with Michael's digitised being, began to lower. 

"Maybe he'll have muscle memory," Michael said. "I could kiss you with that mouth in a minute, might even feel the same." 

Castiel lifted his angel blade. "You disgust me." 

"You're too inflexible in your thinking. I found out your secret, you're unstacked. A walking organic novelty, so analogue." 

Castiel responded by sliding the second angel blade out of his sleeve. That had belonged to Jack, Castiel picked it up after he'd been killed by Luc. He held both blades and readied himself. Michael might have bio-enhancements built into this spliced sleeve, but Castiel was going to kill him and then shove Dean right back into his own body. Castiel said a silent prayer to the Angel Protectorate as he lunged forward. 

"Don't," Michael said and something in his voice made Castiel pause. "If I don't wake up in your Dean, I will not disarm Heaviral. I weaponised it an hour ago, the symptoms of the infection has already begun to show in the heavy users." 

The words were softly spoken but their implication was heavy. Everyone was on Heaviral. It was the only drug that could keep gracification and demonisation at bay, temporarily. The faces of the partially gracified or demonised slum dwellers Castiel had gotten to know well working the beat came to mind, people like Claire or Ash. Millions would perish. 

"Oh and I added a little dose of infection to that stack you're holding when I dug it out," Michael whispered as an after thought. 

"You won't let me keep him, in any vessel. Your actions are not about greed anymore, you are envious." Castiel said righteously. 

"Give me his body, or lose his soul." Michael pointed the oversized Chuck gun at Dean's body. 

Castiel stared at Dean's stack in his hand. 

Then he raised his angel blades and sliced off Michael's head in one scissoring movement. Michael got off one shot which obliterated Dean's head and torso. 

Pushing Dean's body to the ground, Castiel switched Dean's stack for Michael's. Then he laid down on the platform and closed his eyes. The surgical arm opened his spinal cortex with precision, the pain was indescribable but Castiel needed to stay awake for the procedure. He needed to hold on to every fibre of his own being as Dean was inserted inside him. The confusion once the stack was in position was pandemonium. Castiel breathed as deeply and slowly as he can. The machine sealed his flesh back up and sent a little jolt of electricity to test Castiel's reflexes. 

_Cas?_ 

_This body is ours, this flesh anchors you, you're whole_

_Cas, what did you do?_

_I got stacked, like you wanted me to_

_You're a crazy fucker_ 

_I know_

_I love you_

Castiel opened his eyes. He felt fury and Dean seethed in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Psst, Dean is not dead.


	18. The Wounds Received In Battle Bestow Honour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The getaway continues ...

_We have to get out of this, Cas_ 

_Dean, I will ensure your safety and find you a new vessel_

_So I can kill you when we get home_ 

Castiel rolled his eyes as he ran through Michael's desolate mansion. The thought of picking up one of the infected but still intact Dean clones was tempting but the blood streaked faces stilled Castiel's hand. 

_I know how pretty my last vessel was, but honestly Cas I don't really give a fuck. Put me in a Synthetic suit for all I care. You have to get me out, or I'll eat up your brain or something. There's a reason why double stacking is illegal_ 

_The other night, you were telling me how desperate you were to get inside_

Castiel blinked as Dean's flush of embarrassment tingled down his spine. 

_Not the same, Cas_

Pragmatically, putting Dean's stack into himself was a strategic move. His vessel was damaged beyond repair and anything that shared Dean's DNA was vulnerable to the virus Michael had unleashed. Michael had made himself immune to the virus by splicing his latest incarnation with a little of Castiel's DNA. So right now, inside Castiel's flesh was the safest place for Dean. Though Castiel had never had the desire to be stacked, doing so for Dean was a worthy endeavour. Castiel wasn't sure how much of his thoughts were shared with Dean, he seemed to hear Dean in his head when he was 'speaking' but the rest was just a sensation. Right now, Dean felt warm and wilful. 

_Be careful getting into the car, that's where I would lay in ambush_ 

The air dock was abandoned just like the rest of Michael's estate. Clone tank explosions tend to have that effect. The police cruiser sat in all its scratched and hardy glory. 

Then the left side of Castiel's body tingled and his mind burst into sensory overload. He could see farther, hear more, the dimness of the air dock was suddenly incandescent bright. It was actually overwhelming. 

_Let me, Cas_

Cas felt Dean taking over, processing through the array of sensory input with the ease of breathing. It was a shock to Castiel who had always made light of the fables about envoy senses. The world was a different place for Dean, where shadows were alive with movement and every potential threat was assessed before they were even conceived. 

_All clear. Sorry to have barged in but I was worried_ 

Castiel felt Dean's retreat into the back of his mind like a loss. His gait stumbled for a step then he was back in full control. As Castiel entered the comfortably familiar interiors of the police cruiser he wondered if maybe double stacking was illegal not because of any neuropsychological damage but the addictive nature of the experience. He could imagine lovers wanting to be forever lost in each other. He supposed he and Dean were lovers. Though the term seemed somehow flimsy to Castiel. 

_You okay there Dean_

_Yeah, that was, when I had control for a minute there, that was weird_

Castiel punched on the siren and blitzed past the air traffic in a direct route to the police headquarters. 

_I was you, it felt, kind of divine_

Castiel snorted and went to town on himself with a flesh laser, knitting together the open wounds. He was a little rough and hasty with the cauterising, so some of the wounds might scar a little later. Somehow, Castiel didn't mind it might be a little visual momentum of this moment. This joining together with Dean in the strangest of circumstances. 

_You felt it too_ 

Dean sounded belligerent in Castiel's head. There was something else there too, fondness and sweetness infused with a sense of anxiety. Though Castiel had seen through Dean's bravado from the beginning, now he could feel core deep anxiety if the man in his heart, in his lungs, in the pit of his stomach. 

"What are you hiding?" Castiel said outloud as he closed in on the police station. 

Dean was silent. Castiel closed his eyes as the cruiser auto-docked. 

_It's just some memories, left over grace from long ago. We'll talk about it later_ 

_Grace? What's that_

Dean didn't reply. Instead, he had gone into overdrive, flooding Castiel's eyes with data. 

_Something's not right_

Castiel thought so too. There weren't any police officers in the air dock, for a mid week shift that alone was unusual. Add to that the absence of Charlie's usual holo greeting. Castiel pulled his trench coat back on, it was completely battered, but it had withstood the slaughter thus far. He needed every inch of protection he could get now that he himself was Dean's shield. For once, Castiel strapped on two thigh harnesses and slipped a number of weapons into them. In his right hand, he held his angel blade and in his left, Dean gripped the Chuck gun they'd taken off Michael. 

The corridors into the office were full of carnage. The bodies were of officers and staff alike. The police men and women had defensive wounds on them. The plain clothed victims had more organic damage, probably shot by the police officers. All the wounds were on their front and given that many did not have any entry cards, Castiel had to conclude those were gracified or demonised hoards rushing into the station for control. He hoped all the missing police cruisers had been used for evacuation rather than hijacked. 

The reception area was darkened with the security shutters down over the plexiglass panes of the entrance. Charlie sat at the front desk, her face pale and covered in blood. 

"I managed to stop the inflow," she said. "But this vessel is shot. Was just dying to see you again." 

Her eyes flashed violet. "Hey Dean, you're in there too?" 

Then she gave out a little gasp and collapsed. Castiel rushed forward but the whir of tires on tiles caught his attention. A motorbike burst through the corridor. A synthetic vessel sat on the back of the police patroller, her face grinning Charlie's characteristic wide toothed grin. 

"Come on bitches," she grabbed a hold of Castiel and pulled him onto the backseat. "No use crying over broken vessels. Though I did like her." 

The motorbike's harness automatically strapped Castiel in securely. 

"This building is full of infected Heaviral patients. We're locked in with them. It's not much better out there. I've had to take most of myself offline as well, Michael was kind of thorough. He's sent AI viruses out as well. Half of the city is paralysed the other half rioting. Are we sure Michael isn't Lucifer? Because he sure has brought in anarchy." 

"Do you know who made it out?" 

"No. I had to go offline immediately, no surveillance access, no data comms at all. The last thing I heard was an intercepted communique on Angel Radio that you made it out of Michael's. Glad you brought Dean too, the report had assumed his real death." 

"Angel radio?" 

"How Lucifer's followers communicate with each other. It's archaic technology, radio waves." 

Castiel let out a low whistle. "You cracked analogue communications?" 

"I know I'm a genius." 

"So what's the plan genius?"

"Easy, I jump in my synthetic suit, I hop on a patrol bike, I rescue you from the Heaviral zombies by jumping off the roof." 

Castiel clutched onto Charlie's waist as she turned on the bike's flight mode, the thrusters charring the PD reception area's faux marble floor. They got height immediately, shooting halfway up the building in a few seconds till Charlie slowed down for the ceiling. 

"Is that a Chuck gun?" 

Castiel blushed. "Dean made me grab it ..." 

"Great, shoot the roof and duck." 

Charlie rotated her torso 180 degrees to shelter Castiel from the debris left by the blast in the roof. It was little disconcerting. 

"Keep going, please," she said with some impatience as Castiel dutifully carved out an opening wide enough for them to pass through.

"Here we go," Charlie said. "Ugh you might want to let Dean drive for a bit Cas, no offence." 

"Why do you need me?" Dean asked in Castiel’s voice with barely a moment's pause. 

"That's so freaky," Charlie quipped. "Because, Dean, we need your envoy senses to get us past that." 

Castiel/Dean raised their head and saw the cruiser bearing down on them. In the driver's seat, Gadreel the Third, smiled and waved.


	19. For Neither Good Nor Evil Can Last Forever

Dean moved Castiel's body in ways that he had never experienced before, nor could ever dream of. The finesse and ease of rising to his feet, balancing on the back of an airborne patrol bike, was intoxicating. To Castiel's surprise, Dean had shoved the Chuck gun into Charlie's robotic hand with a quick 'be more useful to you than me' before leaping for the cruiser above them. For a brief moment, Castiel had the thought that they were free-falling, but he was unafraid because Dean was hooting in his head. Then Castiel found two angel blades in his hands one of which was thrust, pummel deep, into the hatch of the cruiser. Castiel had always known the strength of his own body, had taken good care of it and trained it to survive in the urban wilderness he policed. Yet Dean pushed his limbs and muscles to a new understanding of endurance and power. He burst through the window of the cruiser within seconds, grabbing hold of Gadreel's throat for purchase and pulled himself into the driver's seat. With one palm squashed over Gadreel's face and the antique scrubber strapped to his wrist lighting up the leather interiors, Castiel took hold of the cruiser's controls with his other hand. Gadreel was uploaded out of his vessel by the time his vessel was thrown out into the atmosphere with a swift kick. 

Castiel flicked the cruiser on auto-pilot and pushed his back into the firm enveloping seat. His face was covered in a sheen of sweat in the rearview mirror, his eyes feverish blue, his mouth agape. Castiel's limbs felt leaden, lightning bolts of adrenalin still rushing to and from fingertips and toes, his chest heaved heavily and his heart was palpitating ecstatically. 

_If you want, I could take it easy on you next time_

"Don't be cocky, Dean," Castiel managed to gasp out between huge shuddering breaths. "I'm hardly impressed." 

Dean's laughter ringing in his head was another unexpected pleasure. 

Castiel looked down at the bulky scrubber on his left wrist. He recognised it as the decommissioned prototype in the armoury. The thing was museum grade and Dean had swindled it out with Charlie's help. Had held onto it, stowed it in their weapons kit. Dean was a river that ran deep, all that thought and planning, beneath his bravado. 

_It stores the data it scrubs_

Dean's comment floored Castiel. This was a digital prison, he had a soul in the palm of his hand.

It struck Castiel that Dean was just as strategic as he was lethal. Gadreel had always survived and evaded justice by making copies of himself. He had lost himself in digital codes, changed and mutated, infected. Castiel's implanted scrubber was hooked up to the mainframe, the electronic stronghold that had never successfully secured Gadreel. In contrast, the hardware of the wrist scrubber was so ancient, it relied on data storage chips. Gadreel was trapped in there, on a few micro-inches of digital imprint, unable to scale any firewall. 

For an envoy like Gadreel, this was a more permanent sentence than a Chuck gun to the head. 

The fight, completed in a few minutes, took it's toll on Castiel despite Dean's skillfulness. Castiel felt himself drift away into something approximating sleep as Dean took over his body. After a brief discussion through the broken window with Charlie, they decided it was imperative to go to the Dumping District. Heaviral affected anyone who had been taking Michael's drugs to delay the effects of gracification and demonisation. Ash had told them that the Dumping District was a gathering place for people who had taken the drug but been unable to hide the physical signs of data-corruption. Dean remembered Claire, the girl who had shown natural resistance to gracification. Castiel agreed that Claire could be a far fetched hail Mary. He shared with Dean the memory of meeting Claire years ago, when she had ran away from home to stop her parents from giving up their own vessel mortgages to buy her a new body. She had a couple of days supply of Heaviral on her, which she promptly gave away to the abandoned children she encountered on the streets. Castiel had cut her loose after seeing that, carefully ensuring that the scrubbing warrant out on her was lost in his messy filing system. He had kept a close eye on Claire ever since, ready to send her back to the mainframe if she became violent or senseless. She never did and after a few years Castiel decided she was just one of those strange flukes of nature. Charlie reckoned that if they can get Claire's help, they could sequence her natural resistance to Heaviral and weaponise it against the virus. It was a long shot but better than doing nothing. 

They landed in the District with unusual ease.  The perpetual queues of traffic waiting to land was absent. The air dock showed no signs of life. Standing above the darkened pits, Charlie leaned closer to Castiel, most of the bright lights carved into the sides of the valleys were darkened, smoke and the glow of fire rose far off in the distant depths. It had only been two hours since the virus took hold. 

"Don't be afraid," Castiel said. 

Charlie's eyes flashed. Not violet because she was offline, it was a human glance. A violently passionate look. 

"I'm gonna make this wrong right," she gave Castiel a curt nod. "You guys find Claire, I'll get Ash." 

Castiel turned on the long range DNA scanner Claire had ripped out of a crashed police cruiser and rigged up for him to drag around. It was massive and heavy but it gave a definite indication of the direction Claire was in and a fairly reliable distance calculation. As Charlie's bike trail dimmed, eaten by the darkness as she descended, Castiel said a silent prayer to the Angel Protectorate. To his surprise, Dean echoed his prayer in his head. 

_Angel of Thursday, Seraphim of Free Will. Loyal, fallen, erroneous, selfless. Keeper of bees, giver of honey, maker of sandwiches_

The prayer was long and comforting and full of nonsense that Castiel never really paid attention to. It was ancient and familiar and soothing. Using a complex combination of elevators and back routes, which Castiel had familiarised himself with in his years of running scrubbing patrols in the area, they made it to the approximate location Claire was in before the long winded prayer had even finished. Castiel ditched the scanner once the DNA signal was pinpointed to a shop front. It was obvious that Claire was inside, judging by the infected vessels standing outside. Some of them could speak and were calling out abuse and enticements in broken sentences. Castiel rushed them from behind, Dean letting him do all the scrubbing without interference. The door opened quickly once they were within arm's reach. Claire, a gun and an angel blade in hand, glared at them for a wide eyed second then rushed into Castiel's arms. 

Castiel hugged her without knowing what to say.  When he looked up, he could see ten or so frightened faces behind her, most were street children. Claire turned to look at the shop's security camera displays. Castiel was impressed. Though the street signage had advertised holos, this was no virtual cast entertainment shop. It was a front for a black market weapons stronghold and it had state of the art security with an un-hackable analogue circuit camera and quite the cache of explosives and ballistics. 

_And now she has someone else who can help her use them up_ Dean said gleefully in Castiel's head. 

Claire gave Castiel a funny look. 

"Talking to yourself, Cas?" She asked. 

"Talking to an envoy, I got stacked." 

Claire raised her eyebrows. "Everyone is stacked. You in shock or something?" 

"No, I'm not, wasn't. I never got a stack put in when I was a baby, I know everyone gets it but I was an orphan and I guess my parents didn't want me to be immortal so I don't have one. And I liked it that way."

Claire blinked for a couple of seconds then she smirked. "Did you get yourself stacked with the hot envoy, Dean Winchester? I mean, hot for a really old dude and definitely not my type, more your's Cas." 

Castiel was taken aback by her sharp insight. 

"Figured you'd do something stupidly romantic, you know the no-nonsense, workaholic types, tend to fall really hard when they crush on someone. But that's pretty drastic even for you and him."

"Are we here to rescue you or are we here to give Cas a hard time?" Dean asked outloud. 

Claire giggled. It was the first time Castiel had ever seen her laugh with such innocent delight. 

"That's a neat trick, guys," she said, picking up a pair of guns and placing both in Castiel's hands. "Now let's see which of you two is a better shot. They are set to stun." 

They took position on the second floor, shooting from a series of concealed points. The infected vessels moved slowly but there were so many, seeping out of the streets, great mobs who were mostly silent, bursting into occasional sobs and rages. 

After a couple of hours of shooting, Claire sent in two young men to relieve Castiel. She gave him a small nutrient bar and a hydro droplet. She was calm when she briefed him. 

"The good news is I found this joint. Enough weapons, food, hydro gel to last us for years." 

"Why do I get a feeling there's also bad news?" Dean asked. Castiel winced internally. 

"The thermonuclear mine is unstable. The whole district is gonna blow." 

"I thought that was a completely automated system. Why would it breach containment?" 

Before Claire could finish her eye roll, Dean interjected "Accidents don't happen accidentally, the explosion IS containment." 

"Your boyfriend's right. Of course blowing up the Dumping District is the Protectorate's idea of containing the Heaviral infection. Since when did our lives matter to anyone in charge of this mess? My dad used to say 'neither good nor evil can last forever', but they do now. Archs like Michael call all the shots, while we live and die, spending all our time in quasi-enslavement to buy our own bodies back from death. Immortality is servitude in disguise." 

"Claire, are you a part of that Lucifer group?" Castiel asked carefully. 

Claire snorted, popping a crumb of nutrient bar into her mouth. "I met the guy once, expensive suit, nice hair. Asked me to work for him but I turned him down. I don't need to join a rebellion. I was born a rebel." 

"You turned down Michael?" 

"Wasn't Michael, at least, I heard Mikey D's got a thing for a particular vessel," Claire winked at Castiel. "Wouldn't be caught alive in anything but. Lucifer wasn't wearing that vessel. Just a generically good looking male caucasian, not battle honed or seduction enhanced, kinda natural looking body. Tallish?" 

Castiel blinked at the vagueness of the description. 

"How about you guys get some sleep. It's almost dawn and the sunlight will slow down the infected. At noon, we can go for a walk to the thermo rift. Maybe stop the detonation?" 

Castiel nodded, while Dean was busy scanning his envoy memories for faces that matched Claire's description. It was a strange sensation, walking down the stairs while fresh and ancient faces flashed through his head. Of course, there was way too many people who could be Lucifer. It was a useless exercise, Castiel thought, given how redundant faces were in an age where bodies were disposable commodities. Lucifer could be anybody, if he was even a person. Claire might have thought she had met him, but she could have been lied to. Though even Castiel had to admit she was by far the most street wise person he knew, after Gabe and Bal. The scene of their last known deaths came to Castiel and made his feet falter on the steps down into the basement.  

_Cas_

_I'm just tired_ 

_Tell me that when I'm not in you_ 

"Dean, leave me alone," he said in a hiss. 

The basement was full of sleeping people, curled up on makeshift mattresses. Castiel found a corner where blankets were piled into a nest, he curled up in it. 

_I can stack into any vessel, Cas, if it's easier_

_It was just a figure of speech_ 

_It's the envoy thing, to be able to combat in any body on any planet. I know this is hard and I don't want to confuse you, in your head_

_It's fine. I want you safe, no better way of keeping you safe than this_ 

Dean was silent for a long moment then he thought, ever so gently: _I miss touching you_

Castiel rolled over in his warm little pile of blankets, his left hand found his right and clasped it. He drifted off to sleep while Dean continued to look for Lucifer in a sea of remembered faces, rejecting each one as if counting sheep. 

In his dream, Castiel saw a great big lake embraced by broad mountains. The sun was setting and he was standing at the water's edge, Dean by his side. 

As he woke, Dean snatched the images away. 

_Was that a dream or a memory?_ 

_Don't know what you're talking about_ Dean said with little conviction. 

Then he took Castiel up the stairs into the kitchen where Claire was already up and drinking coffee.  

"You want me to stop the district from blowing up, better gimme some real espresso and none of that hydro gel crap," Dean said.  

Claire grinned and pushed a second piping hot mugful towards Castiel. 

"Thank you, Claire," Castiel took a sip, washing down a mouthful of nutrient mush and internally shushed Dean's grumbling about bacon and eggs.


	20. Too Much Sanity May Be Madness

Claire whistled tunelessly as she walked ahead, Chuck gun and angel blade poised. The streets were deserted, shards of sunlight pierced the gloom of the valley, the automated street cleaners whirred past as if nothing had gone wrong. Occasionally, Dean spotted the remains of synthetic bodies in dark corners, torn apart by the infected. He wondered how Charlie was going with the retrieval of Ash, though the chances seemed slim, if anybody could do it, it would be her. 

Castiel was in Dean’s head, alert and determined. It was just the three of them making their way to the thermonuclear facility. Claire has left instructions for the survivors, appointing a young girl named Kaia as their leader in her absence. Dean admired Claire and thought that if the world ever became sane again, he would like to offer her envoy training. In his hundreds of years of existence, that urge had never before struck Dean. To be an envoy was an usual destiny, the skills and philosophy was passed down from one envoy to the next. Dean had been trained by his mother, Mary. 

After a few miles, Dean sensed that they were being followed. When Claire and Castiel wrenched at the jammed door to the power plant, their shadow shyly stepped into full view. Dean could feel the sudden constriction in Castiel’s chest. It was the empty vessel, the last one to be born from Michael’s tank at Milton Manor. The one who was unaffected by the virus that killed all of the other clones. 

“Michael, forgot your clothes?” Claire had her gun pressed into the vessel’s neck in a split second. 

The clone turned wide green eyes on her and stood still, his arms flaccid, his face blank. Then his gaze slipped back to Castiel, full of longing. 

“Not Michael then,” Claire let him go. “You picked up a stray Cas?” 

Castiel took over from Dean, slipping his trench coat off his shoulders and draping it around the clone. The poor creature sighed when it felt the warmth of the fabric. He studied the door and walked up to it slowly, then pulled it open with a smooth tug. 

“Enhanced strength, nice,” Claire said. “So he’s coming with?” 

Castiel nodded and they entered the facility. The whole place was on minimal security, seeing as it was rigged to blow. They reached the interface and messed around with the self-destruct algorithm for an hour, until Claire’s timer went off. 

“Shoot, we gotta go,” Claire said as she quietened the alarm. “The pollution release is auto-scheduled and has just gone off. In ten minutes, it’ll obscure what’s left of the sunlight and we won’t be safe.” 

“I almost got it,” Dean swore. “Where’s Charlie anyway?” 

“I radioed for her last night but got no reply,” Claire said. “Same again this morning. I sent her our location in case she is still around.” 

“She’s around,” Dean said gruffly, but Castiel could sense his inward uncertainty.

The minutes counted down and there was little progress. Then the security they had switched back on lit up, the cameras sensing movement all along the perimeters. 

Claire cursed loudly. “That took less time than I thought. Did the waste vents release early?” 

“No,” Castiel said, checking the interface. “Something else is blocking the sun.” 

The clone stood up and exited the hatch door out of the interface room. A security feed showed him standing guard just outside the control centre. 

“He’s not even armed,” Claire flicked her hair and ran out after him. 

Dean persisted with the butchered hacking job he was doing. He had no equipment and the algorithms were secured with way too many failsafes. The sound of fighting came over the sensors but neither Dean nor Castiel could spare the seconds to check on how Claire and the clone were faring. 

The hatch door opened after about twenty minutes, when Dean was just a couple more layers of programming away from gaining access. The clone was carrying Claire who was still valiantly shooting over his shoulder. Her leg was bleeding. The wound was a sizable tear down her calf. 

“Fucker bit me,” she yelled, firing skilfully through the closing hatch door. “This is for being a Buffy cliche!” 

The clone carefully lowered her to the ground then sat impassively beside her. 

“He’s a keeper, Cas,” she called out.

The clone remained motionless. 

“We’re busy,” Dean said in reply. “Got it!” 

The interface stated in plain text “Self-Destruct shut down.” 

Claire looked down at her wrist data reader. “Nope, we’re still hot.” 

She scrunched up her face and squinted at the information. “It’s not coming from below us.” 

The inbuilt communications system in the whole plant went online. A smooth synthetic voice spoke. 

“By order of the Protectorate, this zone is declared contaminated and will now be neutralised. All citizens in the vicinity of this broadcast have sixty seconds to perform a stack backup. All needle casts will be preserved and you will be returned to life as soon as your stack mortgage conveyancing is completed. Thank you for your cooperation. This announcement was authorised by Archangels Michael of Old Earth and seconded by Raphael of Mars. This mandate is endorsed by Naomi of the Jupiter expedition and funded by the United Planetary Exploration Protection Authority.”

Dean smirked. “We needle cast and they’ll shelve us.” 

“Protectorate anti-virus programs have a funny knack of accidentally corrupting the files of anyone who they don’t deem compliant enough, wealthy enough or worthy enough for re-vessel-ing,” Claire clenched her jaw. “Damnit, I liked this body, it’s weird but it’s pretty and it’s strong.” 

“He’s got body-tech, maybe he can run her out of her, get her somewhere safe,” Dean pointed to the clone. 

The clone shook his head. He stood up slowly and held out his hand towards Castiel. 

“No, please, take Claire,” Castiel said. 

The clone opened his mouth and said something that sounded distorted. 

“He’s saying ‘Cas’,” Claire’s face crumpled a little. “That’s so creepily sweet. I mean, he’s just baseline brain functions and a bunch of very high tech muscles but he still wants to save you. You and Dean must have a heck of a bond. His body wants you.” 

Castiel gave an exasperated sigh. “Could you not sass me in our last moments of life?” 

Claire looked skyward. “Excuse me for living my best life for a few more seconds.” 

Then she gasped. “That’s not a fucking cloud!” 

The text on the interface suddenly changed from the Protectorate insignia to a big yellow winking face. 

I’M IN, BITCHES! 

GUYS, I’M GONNA BORROW YOUR FRIEND, K? 

The clone’s eyes flashed a familiar shade of violet. 

“Whew, got here just in time!” Charlie said, flexing her new hands and pulling faces. “Dean, your clones is so handsome. So we got Protectorate Carrier up there ready to decimate and what do we have here? Oh, nuclear active waste cannon, so um, radiation guns in other words.” 

The interface flickered through a series of calculations faster than Dean’s eyes could register, then a flash lit up the small observation windows. On the screen an arc of light sliced through the huge Protectorate ship in the sky, cutting it in half. One chunk came crashing down, the rest of the carrier listed and stayed airborne. 

“All right, so they are gonna fire on us as soon as they get their weapons back online, so we need to move.” 

With one arm, Charlie scooped up Claire and with the other she ripped open the hatch door. 

“We could have just opened it using the interface,” Claire said pointedly. 

“No time to waste,” Charlie winked. 

“You just wanted to play with Dean’s clone,” Claire rolled her eyes. 

“You guys coming?” Charlie called out as she pumped the clone’s legs at speed. 

Castiel ran after them. 

_I look great from this angle_ Dean laughed in Castiel’s head. 

_You’re all insane_ thought Castiel vehemently. 

Once the cleared the control section of the plant, they were right in the open. There was a perimeter of about a mile around the facility that had nothing on it to use as cover. There was no time to pause though, since behind them the whole building was being reduced to rabble by the Protectorate. 

“Thermonuclear mines tend to overreact badly to being exploded,” Claire shouted. “Will you hurry up Cas? Your freaking lucky damage proof coat is on the clone!” 

Castiel could feel his lungs were near to bursting, his legs were slowing down, his whole body was struggling to keep up with the pace of their evacuation. 

_Here, lemme_ 

Dean took over and it wasn’t quite like the pain of the exertion just went away. It was more as if Dean was using it for energy. As every muscle screamed, Dean breathed slow and steadily through his nose, the burning sensation deep in the tissues of Castiel’s flesh became warm and electrifying. Castiel’s sense expanded to embrace everything in his surroundings. The heat of the eruptions dry and hot on his back, the rumble beneath the ground kissed the soles of his feet, the scent of exhaust fumes and recycled air, the lights burning in the fumes dancing in the gloom, glowing brighter and larger. Flashing red and blue. 

“Reinforcements!” Charlie gave a loud cheer. 

The wind began to pick up, they stopped running. As the smoke subsided, they could see a ring of police cruisers surrounding the Protectorate Carrier, sirens flickering. The whole ship was haloed by bright focus beams from the cruisers’ spotlights. All the police vehicles were broadcasting one gruff voice. 

“This is Sheriff Bobby Singer of the Texan PD. I have gained visual confirmation of human survivors on the ground. You are not to fire upon the civilians. I will take all legal measures available to me to ensure it.” 

There pause then one of the police cruisers fired a beam weapon at a piece of debris falling from the carrier, the whole thing was particlised before it hit the ground. 

“Yeah, that’s how much of a fuck I give about disobeying a Protectorate order,” Bobby muttered darkly, his voice echoing loudly in the sky. 

The carrier began to gain height and soon was a speck of light over the valley of the Dumping District. The police cruisers split up, flying away in different directions. All except one. 

“See you boys and gals at meeting point,” was Bobby’s parting grumble. 

“Like an angry, lifesaving, god,” Castiel said after a moment. 

They walked towards the main road then stopped. There was about a hundred infected vessels standing just on the other side of the security perimeter. Claire cursed but Charlie smiled, twisting up the clone’s mouth mirthfully. 

_I miss your smile_ Castiel thought ruefully at Dean. 

Before Dean could respond, the crowd parted, as a police cruiser with sires blazing swooped low over their heads. The cruiser glided over the security wall and landed awkwardly on the concrete clearing. The hatch opened and Gabriel emerged striking an exaggerated heroic pose.

“Who thought it was a good idea to let the boy god drive?” Said Balthazar as he stepped out from behind Gabriel, slapping him on the back of the head.

“I think I’m stuck in the harness,” said someone from the pilot seat. “I can’t get out!” 

“Figures,” Gabriel laughed. “Can resurrect the dead, completely immortal, opens portals into other universes, but can’t get out of a safety harness. Oh hey Deano, why are you inside your boyfriend while Charlie drives your bod?” 

Dean and Castiel watched, dumbfounded, as Jack finally disentangled himself and clambered down to the ground. He gave them all a cheerful wave and gestured at the cruiser with his thumb. 

“Can I pilot again on the way back?” He asked with a sheepishly maniacle grin.


	21. Proverbs Are Short Sentences Drawn From Long Experience

The police cruiser took to the skies, gaining altitude all the way into the high stratosphere. Jack piloted them through heavy cloud cover. Gabriel pressed his nose to the glass as they caught glimpses of New America, while whispering not so quiet 'oh's and 'ah's to Balthazar. Castiel rested his head against the viewing portal beside his seat and saw the world in a whole new light. At first, Texas was a never ending metropolis. From the inky pits of carved industrial valleys like the Dumping District, to the utilitarian skyscrapers of the mid-strata, there were endless levels and constructions of metal and concrete hues, stained rust pink where the pollution stacks vented. As they rose higher the apexes of the buildings came into view. High ornate spires that belonged to the Church and the Archangels who controlled the Protectorate, manors built on anti-gravity platforms magnetically suspended high above the general populace, recreational cruisers with private decks glittering with jewel like artificial lakes and gardens. All these idyllic self-contained paradises, floating untouchable in the sky.  

When Texas, the capital of New America, shrunk into a mosaic of gridded lines and the pleasure cruisers were no more than shimmering pebbles, the hydro-plants came into view. Concentric circles of vertical farms producing nutrient dense crops to feed the colonist ventures. The rest of middle America was chalk white, carved into beautiful grids for mining and resource exploitation. The shores of the inland ocean were awash in rainbows with oil slicks and waste outlet zones. The grand canyons damed into ribbons of vivid chartreuse and magenta and aquamarine, the toxic rivers mechanically banked and waiting drainage into the much expanded landlocked sea. Beyond the extent of Castiel's sight, there would be Maine to the east and Florida to the west and New Orleans to the south. Each with its own ruling Archangel, forming the four cornerstones of the Protectorate's power. 

_Isn't it funny how something so terrible can look so beautiful if you get high enough_

Dean's thoughts were so much more complex and gentle than the words he ever allowed himself to speak. 

Castiel smiled. _I like to imagine dying would feel like this, getting an expanded perspective on things_

_Died lots before, can't say I remember this_ 

_You're not sharing all of your memories with me. I have noticed_

_That's all we are, aren't we, memories and impulses. If I showed you all my memories, who would you be?_

Castiel allowed himself a small smile. Opposite him, Dean's clone turned vacant eyes towards him and lingered at the sight of Castiel grinning. 

_Like a flower turning to the sun_ 

Castiel blushed, turning to the window again. 

_Maybe we're not supposed to remember everything. Nor live forever_

Castiel wasn't sure whether it was him or Dean who thought that last thought. Castiel closed his eyes and began to doze. The endless running and fighting catching up with him at long last. Though there were still so many questions unanswered, this little cruiser filled with his comrades was enough to make him feel at home. As they gained more altitude, Dean's clone leaned in closer for warmth and Castiel drifted off to sleep. 

* * *

It was Claire who woke Castiel, nudging him out of his sleep. He found himself buried in the Dean clone's side, the familiar scent of Dean's body cloying on the trench coat that the clone was still wearing. Dean yawned as they woke and Castiel rubbed his hand over his face to wake himself up fully. There was an island floating in the open ocean beneath them, the water looked pristine blue and the land was covered with trees. 

"How?" Castiel asked out loud. 

"Pollution pumps under the ocean floor and solar exclusion barriers all around, hundreds of miles off," Charlie took over the clone and said. 

Castiel pushed himself away from the clone at the sudden reminder that it wasn't Dean in there. 

"Where are we?" Claire asked. "This looks like an Arch's property." 

"This island belongs to Michael, but it is now Lucifer's base," Jack said cheerfully as he dragged the cruiser through a clunky landing on the island's lavishly vegetated field.

_Who's side are we fighting on?_

_Relax Cas, our side_

Castiel found himself standing guardedly in front of Dean's clone as they climbed out of the cruiser. 

Gabriel and Balthazar were running ahead, colliding into hugs with the people waiting in the shade of the trees. The woman with the bright golden hair raised her hand in the air. 

"Mum? Dad?" Dean yelled out. "Look at you guys in your own vessels!" 

Mary and John waved at Dean from behind the tallest figure. He looked familiar too. 

"Oh hey, it's you!" Claire said and raised her hand at the man, she turned and pulled a face at Dean. "Told ya." 

Castiel looked at the man and frowned, he was 'tall' and 'handsome' just like Claire had described and he certainly wasn't Michael. 

"What's Michael's lawyer doing here?" Dean called out. "Mr Wesson?" 

"Hi Dean, please call me Sam." 

Dean halted Castiel's progress and stared. 

_I can feel the neuro-scarring Dean. Someone removed your memory of Sam._

"You don't remember me as Sam, but I can undo it." Mr Wesson said. 

"Undo? What do you mean undo? Was it you who did it in the first place?" 

"I had to Dean, I was told to." 

Castiel could feel Dean's rage take over control of his fists. "No Dean!" 

Dean had already lashed out, throwing a well calculated punch at Sam's throat. Sam ducked and weaved out of the way and countered with a kick towards Dean's knee. Dean withdrew his leg and twisted out of Sam’s path. His second punch was caught in Mary’s grip. 

"Behave boys," she said calmly. "We have guests." 

Both Sam and Dean stood down in a synchronised gesture, trading dirty looks as Mary turned her attention to Claire and Jack. 

"Now you look like a young man who would enjoy John's homemade chocolate cake, he makes it with coconut oil fresh from the palm trees. Tedious but delicious." 

Jack clasped her into a tight embrace. "Mary, it's good to see you again." 

Mary inclined her head and gave him a knowing look. "Good to see you too Jack." 

Claire stood with her arms crossed and tipped her chin up when Mary looked at her. "Wassup, Mrs Winchester." 

"You have your father's eyes," Mary said. "And your mother's smile." 

Claire arched an eyebrow. "You know my mom and dad?" 

"Dr Jimmy Novak and Captain Amelia Novak set up the first medical clinic in a Martian outpost 30 years ago. When you went missing on Old Earth, they eventually went back to Mars. So I've heard from my friends when I was looking for information on Sam. Obviously, we've found Sam." 

Claire looked shaken. "I thought they gave up on looking for me and got themselves shelved." 

"No, that was the cover story, they went without notifying the authorities. They've been working with Sam to bring the movement to Mars." 

"The movement?" 

"The revolt against the Archangels," Mary said firmly. 

Claire thought for a moment then spoke carefully. "Well, now that I've seen first hand how they are happy to blow up everybody just to get a handle on a situation. Count me in on your hopeless crusade." 

Dean was still throwing shady looks at Sam while Claire spoke as inspiration struck her. 

"Can you guys get my friends out of the zombie apocalypse?" 

"Charlie's been working with Kaia over the last few hours, they're on their way here," Sam said confidently. "The Archangels responded in a manner far more bloody than we anticipated to the unrest from Michael's virus. We are working on excluding all Protectorate forces from Old Earth." 

"No way," Claire gasped. "But that would be, that's ..."

"Another Lucifer Uprising is what the Protectorate is calling it," John shrugged. "Word of the massacre on Old Earth has already gotten out and the source of the virus being Michael is also being whispered across the universe. The angels' days are numbered. And now we have some of them on our side too, the good ones." 

"Angels?" Castiel interrupted. "Who? Is it Jack?" 

Jack blushed. "Actually, I'm a Niphilim. The first one. Sam can explain it."

"We are the angels, I'm an Arch even," Gabriel piped up. 

Castiel's head lashed to the side and looked at Gabriel who was currently trying to crack a coconut with a rock, Dean let out a soft snort. 

"Actually he's telling you the truth, for a change," Balthazar gestured to himself. "Though I look very young and attractive, I am in fact very very old. Gabriel and I can definitely be called angels at our life experience level. In fact, Gabriel is just a little younger than Michael. We never wanted power or control, just wanted to live out our lives with everybody. To stop us from getting too set in our ways, we come to Sam for re-sets every now and then." 

"I take their memories and store it for them. So they stay subjectively younger than they are in fact. They don't want to become like the other angels who have lost their humanity." 

"All those joint vacations?" Castiel asked knowingly. 

"Seeing Sam mostly, with the occassional genuine pleasure cruise thrown in, those keep you young too," Balthazar laughed. "Well, that and reminds us why life is worth living." 

"My favourite is the Disney themed one docked on Planetary Moon 1," Gabriel cheered as he cracked the coconut, pouring the juices down his chin as he drank from it. "Great fun house and ridiculous zero G roller coasters. Bal’s into the more adult orientated establishments. We take turns picking." 

The camp site Mary had set up for them was simple. A few tents containing comfortable bed rolls. There was a roaring open fire, roasting fish. On a hot rock, a small cake tin rested, smelling heavenly. 

"Kaia and Charlie will be here in the morning," Sam said to Castiel. "Tomorrow I will take you and Dean up to the house. There's medical equipment there that we can use." 

Castiel and the clone ate a filling meal and watched Jack and Claire make shadow puppets in the light of the campfire for a little while. Then they retired to a tent, Castiel taking one bedroll and giving the clone the other. 

_He's not sleeping. He’s just watching you_ Dean thought. 

Castiel looked at the wide open eyes of the clone, staring at him in the darkness of the tent. 

"Here, it's all right," Castiel said shuffling back. 

The clone laid down beside Castiel, resting his forehead against Castiel's chest, after a moment he began to snore. 

_Soft touch_ Dean complained. 

_Warmer this way_ 

_Sure_ 

Dean dreamt of a white rose, an iridescent blue mist rising from it. Castiel did not understand the meaning of the dream, but could feel the wonder Dean felt as the shining vapour enveloped his face.


	22. Fearing More To Live Than Die

In the morning, Mary brought a change of clothes for Castiel and the Dean clone. Soft washed denim and a cotton t-shirt cool enough for the tropical climate of the island for Dean’s clone. Castiel’s suit and shirt had been cleaned, it smelt of salty sea spray and sun. The clone clasped the trench coat to his chest, shaking his head as Mary tried to coax it away from him. Castiel intervened. 

“It doesn’t need to be washed, it just stays clean somehow.” 

Mary studied the coat, her eyes unreadable, then she said kindly to the clone. “If it means so much to you, you can keep it.”

The clone hesitated then walked up to Castiel and draped the trench around him, he couldn’t quite work out how it is put on so he left it hanging loosely around Castiel’s shoulders. Then he took a step back and stood still, his legs bowing slightly in a satisfied manner. 

“So my son is in there with you?” Mary asked Castiel. 

“Right here,” Dean answered, she rolled her eyes happily at him as he gave her a thumbsup. “Fancy meeting you like this.” 

“I sensed you were taken with Castiel, but this is a little much,” Mary said teasingly. 

Both Castiel and Dean blushed fiercely in response. 

“Dean, I want you to take it easy on Sam. He has a lot to tell you, let him take his time in doing so, don’t rush into conclusions. He’s your brother and he will always have your best interest at heart.” 

Dean nodded at Mary. When Sam jogged up to them, Dean said a gruff ‘good morning’ much to Sam’s surprise. They ate a meal of boiled oats sweetened with coconut juice and fragrant with coconut flesh. By the morning fire Dean and Castiel found all their old friends. Gabriel and Balthazar sipping tea made from foraged herbs. Claire and Kaia and their friends stuffing their faces with real food. Charlie was in her human vessel sitting down next to a young guy Castiel had never seen before and Jack who enthusiastically ate three portions. The food was good, Castiel and Dean finished a bowl each. Even the clone made contented noises as he filled his stomach. After all the hellos were said, the group disbanded, each tasked with various duties. Gabriel and Balthazar went into the police cruiser after vaguely saying that they were supposed to ‘catch up with Bobby’. Claire and Kaia were walking around, packing up tents with the other survivors, and preparing for a mission to take over a cruise ship to serve as their mobile home base. Charlie and Jack were talking animatedly about the Protectorate mainframe, presumably something disastrous was about to happen it. 

“Hi, I’m Kevin,” said the unknown young man who was seated next to Charlie, as soon as he was done eating wolfishly. “We’ve met before. At the Vault.” 

Castiel blinked, then Dean matched the voice. “You’re the Vault AI, or used to be?” 

“Still am but there’s not much left of the Vault,” Kevin said. “I can do everything remotely now that Charlie’s shown me how to free-roam.”

“That’s that purple light eyes trick right?” Dean asked. 

“Yes Dean.” 

Kevin was especially adapt at speaking to the two of them in the one vessel. He looked at them curiously. 

“It’s incredible your consciousness remains intact and you are both psychologically stable,” Kevin marvelled, eyes silvering over with a violet haze as he scanned Castiel. “There are two minds inside you, entwined and thriving. I would never have thought it possible.” 

Dean shifted his shoulders bashfully. “It’s only temporary, I don’t want to overstay my welcome.” 

“You may remain as long as you want,” Castiel replied. 

“You both still think and speak separately, that’s so cool. I imagine that you have brought along that clone for insertion?” 

Castiel reeled at the suggestion while Dean’s stiffed their back. 

“No, he’s just a tag along. I don’t plan to do anything with him.”

“Oh, okay, but he won’t live long like that,” Kevin touched the clone on the cheek with pity. “He’s empty, the only way he’s surviving is by staying close to you. He needs a soul. Without a stack a decanted vessel will eventually stop functioning. I know Michael used to play with his clones and I found it really gross to be honest. He was just using them, using himself, for pleasure at their expense.”

“What a jerk,” Dean said while Castiel’s face scrunched up with distaste. “He murdered a bunch of them too, back in Texas.” 

“Yeah, dude has a real problem with himself,” Kevin said. “I almost feel sorry for him, in his current situation.” 

“Michael is dead,” Castiel said. 

“No, he needle-casted out, there’s a record of it on the mainframe,” Kevin sounded certain. “We tracked the signal, that’s how we found this island. This is where he used to decant a bunch of his clones and let them run wild all over the place. He came here for vacations.” 

Castiel felt Dean’s nausea as a physical experience. 

“Kevin!” Charlie admonished as she turned away from speaking to Jack. “Sam was gonna tell him.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Kevin jumped up flustered. “Uh, forget I told you that. Hey, don’t tell Sam I blabbed okay?” 

Castiel turned to see Sam walking up to them, a bundle fabric in his hand. He nodded: “Sure Kevin.” 

Sam guided Castiel away from the crowd and said “Can I give something to Dean’s clone?” 

Sam offered the clone a flannel shirt, helping the clone to pull the sleeves over his arms. Sam stood back and smiled with some relief. “Now that looks more right. Come on Dean.”

“I’m in here,” Dean said through Castiel’s mouth. Sam just waved them in the direction of a path into the jungle. 

They walked through dense vegetation following a white sand trail, going up hill the whole time. Passing lush palms and bold coloured flowers. There were exotic birds in the trees and small gorgeous animals in the undergrowth. Nothing was dangerous or threatening, the whole island was a constructed Garden of Eden. The house sat atop a cliff in the far northern edge of the island, much smaller than Michael’s grand manor back in Texas. Anna met them at the door, she pulled her damp red hair off her face. She had been running, sweat was dripping down her brows. 

“I’ve been chasing them all morning, just rounded up the last one.” 

Behind her, Castiel could see a cozy living room, filled with light. The room was full of people, all of them naked. Dean rolled his eyes. 

“He rips their clothes off if I try to put anything on them,” Anna sighed. 

“Where is he?” Sam asked, looking around the room. Castiel wondered who he was looking for. 

“Up here,” Anna and Sam went upstairs while Castiel and Dean waited with the clones. 

They were all identical to Dean and regarded the fully dressed Dean clone with mild interest. The clone moved a little closer to Castiel. 

“Don’t get spooked,” Dean muttered. “I know I’m not.” 

The figure who emerged at the top of the staircase was stooped. He leaned on Sam and hobbled down the stairs slowly. When he raised his weathered face, Castiel let out a hiss. 

“Hiya Cas,” said Michael.


	23. The Maddest Thing A Man Can Do

"Why is everyone camping on the beach, while this guy lives in his own little retirement village of horrors?" Dean asked as Sam brought out a tray of hot drinks. There were even little accompanying cakes that tasted delicious until Michael admitted coyly that he was the pastry chef. 

Sam passed a cup of milky tea to Anna and drank his black coffee with a pained expression. 

"I'm doing the best I can, Dean," Sam said. "He's not safe to be around other people. Anna and I are used to dealing with him, we know all his tricks." 

"So that's why you disappeared from the police force, Anna?" Castiel asked, his expression grave. "How did Lucifer, I mean Sam, convince you to turn your back on us?" 

Anna sipped from her mug, when she looked up her eyes had the sort of determined look that Dean had only known Castiel to be capable of. Castiel stared back impassively.

_Man, you two are two of a kind_

_She was my mentor. We were close_

Anna broke off her gaze after a moment, the lines around her mouth softening as she spoke.

"I'm a lot older than you think I am, Castiel. I've been in charge of Michael's welfare since before you were born. I have always worked with Sam for as far back as I can remember. If we are talking about friendships, Sam was my friend long before we met." 

"They've been plotting my demise you see?" Michael interjected. "There were a bunch of assassination attempts a coupla decades ago. So I hired Anna, then she brought in Mr Wesson to take care of the legalities of my lifestyle. He proved himself capable in the extreme. So I kept them both on, thinking they were loyal." 

"There is no one more loyal to you Michael, than me," Sam stated. 

Michael snorted, his croaky laugh turning into a harsh coughing fit. "Damnit, this stupid vessel is too old!" 

"I'll take him upstairs," Anna stood up. "You need another session." 

"I want them to come!" Michael pointed at the clones. "All of them." 

Anna rolled her eyes but inclined her head in agreement. The clones gathered around Michael, pushing and nudging him up the stairs. 

"What about that one?" Michael pointed to the clone dressed in the flannel shirt. "He's mine too." 

"Not him," Dean replied sternly. 

"They are all the same, no matter how you dress them up," Michael argued. 

"Not to me," Castiel said firmly. 

Michael looked set to complain some more but another coughing fit overtook him. Anna dragged him along with her. Sam visibly relaxed when they were all out of sight. 

"What a freak show," Dean remarked. 

"He downloaded into his original vessel after he blew up his own clone tank at Milton Manor. He had it stored here on the island as a relic, for when he wants to be back in his own skin I suppose. When we tracked his needle cast here, Charlie created a digital buffer for all the other clones. So now he's trapped in it. Maybe if he does anti-ageing treatment for another 50 years he'll eventually get back to the youthful appearance he prefers. Keeping him in this state is not a long term solution but I'm a bit at a loss as to what to do with my brother." 

"Another brother?" Dean said sarcastically. "How many of those you got? Cause mom said that you are my brother, little brother even." 

"I only have the one brother and that is you Dean." Sam paused. "I need to tell you that you and Michael are the same person." 

Dean squinted at Sam. "Head feeling okay?" 

"You got time for a long story?" Sam asked. "Or a short one really. It's simple, if you can suspend belief a little." 

Dean sat back, crossing his legs. "Shoot." 

"There were two brothers a long time ago, in another universe. Sam and Dean Winchester. The world they lived in was ending. They crossed paths with a Niphilim, Jack, you know him. So Jack can open rips into other universes and he did, to this one. This universe was what we called Apocalypse World. There were angels here who had killed and enslaved the humans. The worst angel here was Michael the Archangel. And I don't mean Archs the way you know them, just people who have lived too long to care about humanity any more. I mean he was a literal Archangel, wings, wrath and all. He went to Sam and Dean's universe and wrecked such havoc that the Winchesters alone escaped with the help of their own angel, Castiel." 

Dean felt Castiel's shock and instinctively clasped his hand. 

"So there was the four of them here in a world where everyone was dead. Sam, Dean, Cas and Jack. Jack opened more rifts and got more survivors from other similar universes and kept them here. Some of them came with technology that we didn't have back in our universe. The survivors began to study cloning, longevity and eventually invented the stacks that allowed us to store our memories. There was a need for it you see, so few survivors to terraform a whole bleak world. The people decided to reproduce however they could and the dead lingered on with the living. Over Millenia the brothers and their guardian angel became thought of as creators of the world, religion sprung up and took their story and wrote it into lore. Society evolved and tried to worship them which they did not want. Castiel was the most successful, he hid his identity until all people remembered was the Angel of Thursday. Dean and Sam weren't so good at it, so the Winchester name became a common surname, their DNA was used in the making of new clone hybrids and eventually many claimed to be their descendants. Over generations there would be repeats, Mary Winchester, John Winchester, all the old memories reborn in a new world. I was surprised by it at first but then I got used to it, found poetry and comfort in seeing the patterns in nature. In finding my loved ones returned to me by time." 

"You're Sam, the first one," Castiel said softly. 

"Yes," Sam answered simply. "I'm from the original universe." 

"Where is the first Dean?" Castiel asked with more fervour than he expected. 

Sam smiled gently. "I'll give you directions to find him, he's with the first Castiel." 

"You're alone?" Dean asked. 

"Jack visits. He gets into these moods and lets himself die but because he is Niphilim he keeps on coming back. He likes to wipe his own memory and start off as a newborn every few decades, says it keeps him in touch with everybody else. The full extent of what Jack can do is beyond my comprehension even after all this time." 

"Just like Gabriel and Balthazar, are they really angels too?" 

"No, they are echos of the past thrown up by random DNA sequences, probably stored in some niche of Castiel's old memories and reborn in the digital soup of consciousness. They are angels the way you know angels, very old souls that have had many lives on stack." 

"So who is Michael?" 

"A bad memory," said Sam. "Michael possessed Dean at one time in our world and the effects of it stayed with Dean more than either of us suspected. I'm afraid that when we gave this world all we had, we gave it our flaws too. Gracification for example is a mutation on Castiel's line. Demonisation comes from me. The demon blood I was exposed to as a child also kept me young while my brother aged." 

"Do real angels age?" Castiel asked unexpectedly. Sam looked at him, impressed. 

"No they do not." 

"I see." said Castiel just as Dean took over. "No, I don't get it. What happened to Cas?" 

"Dean was mortal. He was the heart and soul of our team. There was so much work to do and we needed him. So Castiel used his grace to keep Dean going. For over a thousand years. Till eventually Castiel could not spare any more grace, he was more human than angel by that point and they both grew old. Contentedly, mind you. They had seen and experienced so much by that point that a stack disk could not contain either of them. So they stored the majority of their life time together and condensed their codes so that they could be stacked. They made a pact, which I witnessed, to never be reborn without the other." 

Dean sat dumbfounded, he felt Castiel's hand move to his face and come away dampened by a tear. 

"Michael was Dean when he was downloaded into a clone off the original line," Sam explained. "He would have been Dean, except the Castiel vessel intended to accompany him was injured. The stack disc in the vessel was broken and all the data lost. That was three hundred years ago. Michael has been alone all that time, I dared not reveal myself to him because knowledge of who he is would have been too dangerous for someone so ambitious. I kept an eye on him, recruited Anna to infiltrate his inner circles. The more Michael grew in power and status, the more energy I devoted to keep him in check. I began the revolts that came to be known as the Lucifer Uprisings. I tried time and again to stop him but I never had the will to end him. The Organisation of Letters are the only branch of religion that have a vague inkling of the truth. Their AI Henry kept some of legacy items from Dean and Castiel for me, he called them relics."

"The broken stack disc with the word CAS scratched onto it." 

"Dean, the first one, carved the letters into the prototype stack disc when they were invented. That's the one Castiel downloaded his essential codes onto. It was passed down from one Castiel clone to the next. Until it was irretrievably damanged." 

Dean interjected. "There's a rose too. I sniffed it and got all these memories in my head. Memories of me and Cas together doing things in other times." 

"A gift from Castiel to Dean. A momentum, Angel equivalent of a photo album. He used a tiny strand of grace to store them in a flower. The grace kept the rose alive for centuries. When you smelled the rose the grace entered your stack." 

"Show me, Dean." Castiel said. 

Dean closed their eyes and let go of the flood of memories for the first time since sharing a body with Castiel. They sat on the couch for a long time, till the sun set and Sam turned on the lights. They were still there, examining and savouring each memory when Sam left to check on Michael. 

It was pitch black when Dean opened his eyes. 

_Cas, we better go back to the camp site and sleep_

_Just a little longer, Dean_

_All right, couch it is then_ 

Anna found Castiel asleep in the living room, Dean's clone curled up at his feet. She placed blankets over them both, then conferred with Sam about the medical procedures Dean needed to be returned to his vessel. 

Castiel dreamt sweetly of thousands of moments spent with Dean over hundreds of years.


	24. For Hope Is Always Born At The Same Time As Love

"I want him stacked." Dean gestured towards the clone who had followed them to the island. 

Sam looked up in surprise, the panel of instruments before him blinking rapidly. "I thought we were just going to undo the neurosurgery that I performed on your stack to keep my identity hidden from Michael?" 

"Cas and I thought about it, we figured that with the CAS stack being damaged the only way Castiel could exist now is that he organically came into being. Like you were saying, the ghost in the code. So maybe this Dean clone is doing the same, maybe he's sentient somehow. I want an empty stack inserted in him to give him more neural function." 

"Dean, that's not going to have the effect you want. No one's seen anything like what you're speculating." 

"Come on Sam, I'm standing here inside Cas who is in every way exactly as he should be, born out of a tank with a fully developed consciousness. Remembering fragments of data from a broken disc rotting away in a far off temple. He built my last body from those memories. He got every part right, every limb, every appendage. How can I not expect the same miracle for this clone?" 

"I think Cas is special, I think maybe his grace is connected to how he came to be. He reminds me so much of the first Castiel! When you go to the tree of life you'll see." 

Castiel crossed his arms in a very Dean manner, jaw set. Sam sighed. "I'll do it but don't be upset when it doesn't work." 

The surgery took some hours and the stacking of the clone was so unusual that Sam had to get Charlie up to the house to figure out how to stimulate the clone's brain function through a vacant stack. Dean watched hopefully as the empty disk was inserted into the clone's spine, then the incision sealed by micro-lasering. 

"He's just laying there." 

"Give it a minute." 

Charlie looked grim. "His brain stats are still baseline." 

They waited. An hour later the clone was still unresponsive. 

"Damnit! How can he just be sleeping now, he was walking and cognisant before!" 

Sam shook his head. "I'm sorry Dean, we tried." 

Dean conferred with Castiel in his head. "What if you download me into him. I can bunk with him like I've been bunking with Cas, might help him." 

"That's too risky, what if you end up trapped inside that body? He might never wake up. He's gone too long without a stack in him." 

With some coaxing Dean succumbed to leaving the clone asleep on the surgery table. Sam used a handheld tool to stimulate Dean's brainstem. This was a much simpler procedure and after just a few quick adjustments Dean looked up at Sam with wonder. 

"Shit, Sammy, nice job." 

The brothers embraced while Charlie tidied up the instruments they had used. Once Dean and Sam had a chance to catch up, she produced a small sphere, it looked like an improvised bomb. 

"This is the cure for Heaviral. I developed it using Claire's mutation. It's been weaponised to be airborne but for best results we need to set it off over Texas. Then it's just a matter of catching the common cold for Michael's virus to be eliminated around the planet." 

"We can go on the fly mission, soon as you guys get us some transport." Dean volunteered. 

"Bobby is still trying to extract survivors from Texas but he's due to meet up here tomorrow," Sam said. "You and Cas can take his cruiser to do the drop. I need to catch up with Bobby on what to do next. The Protectorate has caught news of the revolt by now, so they'll be throwing all they got at us soon enough. Anna will stay here and keep an eye on Michael."

"Excuse me?" Dean asked incredulous. "What do you mean Anna will stay here and keep an eye on him? Execute him!" 

Sam looked appalled by the idea. 

"You haven't exactly kept great reins on him, he's become an Arch and killed hundreds of thousands of people." 

Sam's head dipped. 

Dean gave a frustrated huff as Castiel took over. 

"What Dean is trying to say, Sam, is that in order to minimise the risk of Michael being Michael, we should eliminate him from the game. This is war Sam, we can't let our feelings surmount our will." 

"He's my brother, however corrupt and warped he has become," Sam said. "Dean's never given up on me, with all my demon streak and mistakes." 

"He's nothing like me." Dean retorted. 

"He's what you would become without Cas." 

Castiel shook his head vehmently. "Dean would never, Michael made his own choices." 

"Regardless, I just can't," Sam said, walking out of the medical wing. 

Michael was waiting for them at the end of the corridor. His wrinkled face peering up at Sam. 

"I heard what you said Sammy," Michael said, gesturing at the tiny drone perched on the interface of his mobility station. "There are still a few tricks up my sleeve. Guess you are loyal after all. Thank you bro."

Sam frowned at Michael and stepped past him. 

"I can fix that clone up for you, if you want," Michael turned to Castiel. "There are ways to stimulate their brains, through their bodily receptors." 

"I'm not going to let you torture him," Dean said in disgust. 

"Who said anything about hurting it, no one else in this universe know more about the workings of the Dean Winchester vessel than I do. I can wake him up, all I ask is that you go into storage." 

Dean paused and stared at Michael. 

"You go into storage, I get this Cas. I can see it now, how lonely and mad I've been without him. Like Sam said, without Cas I've become a monster. If you just let me spend some time with him, alone, without you, we might rebuild our connection. I'll be a changed man."

It was Castiel who replied to Michael, since Dean was seething with rage. "Not in another million years." 

* * *

There was little to do but wait for Bobby's arrival. On their return to the beach, Dean looked at the island's waterfalls and fruit orchards with longing but the very idea that Michael used to frolic on the island in the tropical setting with all his brain dead clones proved too nauseating. Instead, they returned to the camp and helped with things like loading provisions and planning cruiser raids. It was wonderful to see Mary in her full glory commanding the fighting forces while John worked on repairing weaponry. By nightfall everyone gathered around the fire once more, eating piping hot stew and speaking warmly to one another. Though they had no roof above their heads, Dean and Castiel slept better amongst their friends they ever did in Michael's ornate house. 

It was a rumbling of the earth that woke them up. At first Dean thought it was an unusually hazardous cruiser landing but the tremors went on too long. Pushing through the tent flap, he rushed to the shoreline and saw in the dawn light that the sea was boiling around the perimeter of the island. Everyone was awake by then, Charlie rushed up shouting instructions for everyone to stay clear of the water. 

"It's thermo-mechanical, the whole island is affected," Charlie shouted over the noise of the rumbling earth. 

"Is it a volcano?" Claire was gathering Kaia and her friends into a ring. 

"Not possible, the whole island is artificially constructed, why would you put a volcano under it?" 

"He does like to blow up his own house on occasion," Dean said grudgingly. 

"Who?" Kaia asked. 

Castiel rolled his eyes at Dean's blathering but there was no hiding it now. "Michael is on this island, there's a house inland and he's in it." 

Sam stepped forward. "I didn't tell anyone because I didn't want you to find out." 

Charlie rolled her eyes at the obviousness of the statement. 

"You didn't want us to kill him you mean," Kaia said angrily. "He's responsible for wiping out our entire city!" 

Sam bowed his head and said nothing. 

"Whatever, I'm going up to the house to find out if this is Michael's fault, it's gotta be, everything is," Dean broke into a jog while Charlie yelled that she would join him. 

"Jack, you stay here and keep everyone safe," Mary shouted. "John and I will make sure everybody comes to you. You can fly as a Niphilim can't you? You could evacuate us?"

"Only one person at a time. I could rift but I don't think you guys want to go to another universe just now. It can take a while to get back to the right one." 

"Get started then, fly everyone back to the safe house in Texas that Claire set up," Mary instructed.

Dean was sprinting now, darting through the passage in the jungle until the house came into view. The rumbling grew stronger and louder. 

Michael was standing at the doorway, waving a flannel clad arm at them. Dean punched him as soon as he came within reach. 

"You bastard!" Dean kept hitting because Michael had gotten out of his aged vessel and into the sleeping clone. 

Charlie swore as she caught sight of Michael in the Dean clone. "I didn't firewall him because he was so non-responsive!" 

Michael was a better fighter than Dean had thought, though not nearly as good as Sam. He managed to land a few strikes against Castiel who kept having to take backward steps. When Michael lunged after a stumble, Castiel ducked and grabbed Michael's face. The scrubber went online and began to glow but Michael growled like an animal. 

"He's clinging onto the vessel!" Dean shouted over Michael's howls. 

"Keep scrubbing Cas, I can firewall the clone if you pull him out." Charlie’s eyes flashed. 

"I can't," Castiel grunted. "He's too old, there's too much data, it's taking too long." 

"There's only one way to erase something digitally," Charlie panted. "You replace it with something else. Dean, you ready for this?" 

Dean nodded and Charlie clasped her hands onto the back of Michael and Castiel's necks. Her eyes turned vivid violet, her nails digging into and breaking the skin slightly. Castiel kept his scrubber running, drawing Michael out in bright arcs of light shooting from the clone's eyes and mouth. Then it was over and Dean was on the ground, staring up at Castiel, his eyes watery green. 

"Hello Dean," Castiel reached out his hand. 

They had only a split second to trade an eon long look, then Charlie's screaming broke their gaze. She was writhing on the ground, clutching at her head. Her eyes were neon purple and stayed that way. 

"He's in my head," Charlie said to Dean. "You need to kill me now." 

"No!" 

"I'm part AI, I can connect to any network, even the Protectorate mainframe. He'll take over everything, he'll kill us all. I'm taking myself offline right now!" 

Charlie grabbed hold of Castiel's palm and buried her face in it but she didn't activate his embedded scrubber, instead the archaic wrist worn version lit up. The bracelet glowing magenta as Charlie quickly downloaded herself into it. Then her vessel stood up and laughed. 

"Well this is nice too," Michael shrugged. "Not my usual style but it'll do." 

Dean made a jump for Michael but the whole ground shook as he did so. Michael turned and ran for the house. Castiel and Dean chased him but the front door slammed shut and the security barrier sealed itself. The whole house was changing into a structure that was more sleek and impenetrable. 

"Look Dean, look at the sky," Castiel pulled on Dean's hand. 

Dean turned back towards the coast and saw how the clouds were descending slowly beneath the horizon. 

Sam came running towards them. "It's not an island, it's a ship." 

They were ascending into the heavens. 

Jack was on Sam's heels. "I've flown everyone back to the safe house. Who's next?" 

"Take Cas." 

"Take Dean." 

"Huh, you guys in separate vessels again? But still talking in unison?" 

"Take either one of them, then come back for the other one," Sam told Jack. "I have to go into the control centre and I have to kick his ass." 

Jack grabbed hold of Castiel and disappeared in an instant. 

"Sammy, let me come with you," Dean pleaded. 

"No, Dean, I have to do this," Sam said. "Please." 

"Not gonna leave you alone to deal with that thing in there!" 

"I'm not alone," Sam said impassioned. "I was when I was chasing after Michael's trail of destruction, but then Castiel made your vessel. I couldn't believe it, I had thought he was just a descendent who looked a lot like our Cas, that's all. But he remembered you, without a stack and all. I couldn't help it. I went into the Vault and altered your vessel, gave it the tattoos and modifications that Dean had. I missed you so much Dean. Just to see you walking around the Dumping District, ripping into Michael in his manor, saving mom and dad, that was wonderful." 

Sam was still smiling tearily when Dean felt Jack's arms wrap around his chest, the Niphilim had snuck up on him while Sam distracted him with his speech. 

"Damnit Sammy," was all Dean managed to say before Jack took off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter left!


	25. Heart of Oak

"We have to get airborne," Castiel said as soon as Dean landed on the ground. 

"Jack can fly," Dean said but as he turned his head to look at Jack, the Niphilim disappeared. 

"Things are not so good," was all Castiel managed to say before the sound of artillery drowned him out. 

Dean looked out of the safe house window and saw the streets decimated by bombardments. The automaton soldiers roaming the streets were Protectorate issue. They were firing on the infected. 

"They are programmed to hit all infected targets," Castiel said. "We have to drop the Anti-Heaviral now." 

Dean nodded and they raced for the roof, leaving Claire and Kaia to hold down the safe house. There were abandoned cruisers in the air dock and Dean managed to crack the programming of one in under a minute. Castiel produced the device Charlie had made from his pocket. 

"Thanks Charlie," he said quietly to his ancient wrist scrubber. 

"Don't worry, Kevin will set her up with another vessel, she said she had half a dozen in tank." 

They were up in the air within seconds. Dean piloting using all of his envoy skill to thread his way through the heavy ground fire from the Protectorate troops. 

"They have beam weapons, Dean." 

"Got it," Dean handled the junk vehicle they commandeered with finesse, he drove it as if it was a top of the line racer. 

"Remember the pact Dean," Castiel said. "I'm not doing this again without you." 

"We're not gonna need the pact," Dean replied, his face focused as he fishtailed out of another lethal vapouriser stream, but their tail was clipped and it was far too close. "But it is ridiculously hard to get any height with this much attention being paid to us." 

"Wait, look at that," Castiel pointed to the peripheral window. 

A beaten up police cruiser darted out of the shadows of a skyscraper. It was an ordinary traffic control cruiser, those had minimal weaponry but were designed to go fast in order to catch traffic infringers. Castiel recognised the insignia instantly. 

"Hanscum and Mills!" Castiel laughed as the traffic cruiser did another flashy turn with its sirens on and crashed right through a Protectorate beam canon. 

The Protectorate robots clamoured to fire at the traffic cruiser and Dean got to the right altitude. Castiel dropped the bomb through the hatch opening and watched it explode in a small lavender cloud. It looked almost insignificant but within moments the robots on the ground stopped firing. The infected were lying down quietly, some holding their heads, a handful looking around in shock at the carnage. Then they all started running, panicked and frightened, into the ravaged buildings. The Protectorate forces scanned the area in bewilderment, then powered down, rolling passively back into their ground carriers. Within minutes, the first carrier took off for the stratosphere. 

Dean and Castiel ditched the cruiser on the nearest roof then ran back towards the safe house. Castiel could hear Dean's footfalls as they sprinted towards the safety of the fortified building. They quickly darted past a surprised group of Protectorate soldiers who scanned them for Heavrial and when they found no trace fo the virus rolled away. Claire took the security perimeters offline for long enough for them to get through. Then they were barrelling into the safety of the building, breathless and exuberant. Dean looked a little lost for a few seconds as he grasped Castiel’s elbows and they panted in each others faces, their breaths shuddering as the adrenaline cruised through their veins.

“This is definitely a better view,” Dean touched his fingers gently to Castiel’s face. “I could get used to this again.” 

Castiel’s lashes dipped low, his cheeks flushed. 

Claire gave a low whistle while Kaia shook her head and looked skyward. Then she gave cursed in a string of words so filthy even Dean’s attention was drawn to the darkening skies outside. 

“For fuck’s sake,” Claire clenched her fists. “I swear, worst villain ever, this guy’s just cringe-clingy.” 

Castiel was still staring at Dean’s face in awe, but he sighed and and muttered: “Is it Michael?” 

Dean nodded. 

Castiel gazed at Dean’s mouth longingly: “His flying-island-ship is right above Texas?” 

Dean gave a soft grunt of affirmation. 

“Damnit.” Castiel licked his parched lips and got to his feet. 

They ran up to the rooftop and watched as the Protectorate robots activated their aviation gear and buzzed around the immense island overhead. 

“I thought Michael was enmeshed with the Protectorate,” Claire whispered in awe as they watched the ship’s beam weapons make scattered fireworks of the drone solders. 

“Guess Naomi and Raphael don’t like how powerful Michael got, what with Heaviral and his flying continent.” Castiel said. 

Dean was staring intently at the sky. “Maybe that was Sam’s doing, maybe he took out Michael and has things under control now.”

Castiel reached out for Dean’s hand, grabbing hold of his rough fingers which were quivering slightly. “I hope so.” 

Dean turned a face full of despair towards Castiel: “We know that’s not Sam, Sam wouldn’t be able to kill him. He never will.” 

Castiel opened his mouth to say something comforting but no words emerged. 

They watched the battle rage on for what seemed hours but were mere minutes. The Protectorate forces were decimated and then the ship was upon them, Dean looked up into the belly of the machine, a darkness immeasurable even with the augmented eyesight of the top of the line vessel Dean was in. 

The ship kept its course, moving over head and out towards the coast, where the raised seabed gleamed magenta in the setting sun, its surface opalescent with oil sleek and iridescent with waste. Castiel felt Dean’s hand clench when the ship exploded, blazing as it dropped from the sky and fell into the sea. 

He could hear Dean’s whispered ‘Sam’ as loud as a scream. 

* * * 

Castiel has never seen Dean frozen in inaction. From every encounter with every obstacle Castiel had seen Dean rush headlong into danger. Shock and terror were for people other than Dean Winchester who placed loyalty above all. The memories that Sam had replaced for Dean of their lives together as envoy and the first inhabitants of New Earth were a mystery to Castiel; though he could tell from the bleakness that settled into Dean’s eyes, the moment the ship crashed, that they were weighty. Then Dean blinked and exploded into action, leaping forward from one roof to the next, so fast that their fingers were still inextricably intertwined. Castiel leapt with him, his body coursing smoothly through the motions, muscles and bones moving in cohesion as if a spark of Dean’s soul was still driving his flesh. Though Castiel would sense Dean’s grief, there was no breakdown, only the will to run, to do what Dean needed to do. They descended roofs one after the other, heading towards the coast, till a police cruiser intercepted them. 

“Get in,” Hanscum was shouting from the open hatchway while Mills kept the agile cruiser steady. 

Castiel grabbed Hanscum in a hug and Dean gave Mills directions to head to the crash site. Within moments they were there, Mills typing in the protocol for the cruiser to enter life support mode. Dean sat tensely beside her while the cruiser plunged into the harbour, submerging as fast as its propulsion engine allowed. The water was murky and turbulent, darkening as they sunk. As they neared the crash site the alarms went off, warning of heat and debris. There were no life signs for a few minutes then the DNA sensors picked up something. 

On the dim seafloor, a light was glowing, as the cruiser approached Castiel could see the oddly bent shape of the water suggesting a sphere made of wings wherein light and air swirled impossibly. Inside the bubble of life, Jack was bowed over Sam. The cruiser followed the slow and miraculous rise of the sphere of light, till after what felt like the longest time, both the vehicle and Jack were floating on top of the ocean surface. They watched in awe as Jack held Sam’s body close to his chest then looked up towards the nearest jetty. The water splashed and rippled, fanned by invisible wings, and they were gone. 

Sam was looking down at the water when Dean and Castiel arrived on the jetty. Beaming as Dean yelled something angry and ecstatic at him, laughing as they embraced. 

* * * 

Some people started calling it the Reunification of Old Earth, others termed it the Lucifer Resurgence, it was all just a bunch of damned capitalised phrases to Dean who promptly rejected any and all titles bestowed by popular opinion. Rumours started going planet to planet that the envoy Dean Winchester was in command of the rebellion that started in Texas. Whilst a few in the know said a lowly police detective, a trained E&P specialist, named Castiel was the leader. Still, others speculated that Castiel was enmeshed with the Organisation of Letters and a fearsome strategist whose ascent to power was frightening the surviving Archs like Naomi and Raphael. Over in the digital hubs, tale was that an AI hybrid named Charlie was in fact behind all the unrest that was threatening the Archs’ grip on power. In the churches the faithful prayed fervently to the Three for protection: the brothers, the angel and now the Niphilim, a heroic figure from long lost scripture whose existence was suddenly rediscovered by Henry the oldest temple keeper AI. Some even said that the Vault was behind it all, with Kevin the harmless looking AI having been Lucifer all along. Even Mary and John Winchester, the famed Martian rebels were alluded to as behind the rebellion, dissent being, after all, their family business.

All the speculation suited Sam just fine, since it gave him the obscurity needed to keep expanding their resources. With the end of Michael’s reign on Old Earth, the colonising Arches were wary, halting their expansion for terraforming and bracing for change. Already there was wavering from the more moderate planets, talk of granting AIs independence and dissolving vessel mortgages was spreading amongst planetary hubs. 

It took months for a kind of stability to be established. Kevin as it turned out was an excellent intermediary with the corporate AIs who kept the infrastructure required for the day to day needs of the population running. Bobby had the planet in lockdown for a few weeks then handed the whole thing back to an elected government. Charlie was voted in as Lady Mayor and she swore that she did not tamper with the voting and Castiel believed her because he was there on polling day and had talked to people and the sentiment was that Charlie was so left field people and AI alike wanted to see what she could do. Charlie pledged to start with salvaging the Dumping District. Gabriel and Balthazar kept up their anonymity though they were pondering buying up a nightclub in the soon to be rejuvenated thermal mines zone. 

The hardest thing about all the change was saying goodbye to Claire as she boarded the exploration vessel headed to Mars to find her parents Jimmy and Amelia Novak. Mary and John went with her, keen to investigate whether Naomi’s hold on Mars needed to be dealt with or if the rebellion could work with her on reform. 

When Castiel asked Dean what he wanted to do, implicit in the question was what they were going to do together, Dean had only a wicked smile and a simple answer. 

“Time to go on a road trip, Cas.” 

* * * 

The cruiser they were in was some relic John pulled out of a Texan department impound and had repaired. Dean called it Baby though to Castiel it looked like a classic muscle car, pre-aviation even. Whatever John did during its revamping verged on magic, the thing drove like a dream and it took them less than a day to get past the US boarder. Then Dean turned her onto some long forgotten road buried deep beneath pine forest canopy, winding down the windows manually and humming along to some archaic analogue music. The whole experience was quaintly timeless and ancient as once, a familiar forgotten ritual. Castiel found himself dozing off with his forehead pressed against the vibrating window, the glass cool on his skin and sun warm as it shone. 

The scent of a summer breeze stirs him from his drowsing, the car is parked on white gravel. Dean’s fingers are in his hair, pulling away with a shy ‘Hey Cas’ as his eyes flutter open. 

Dean doesn’t kiss him or touch him as Castiel sits up, looks around them. Then he was up and out of the car, coming around to open the door for Castiel, face softening with happiness. 

“It’s not far by foot.” 

Dean seemed almost timid, but his body was relaxed and his smile bright. Like he had something truly wonderful to share. 

At first Castiel thought it was the meadow they traipsed through, covered in wild flowers that wafted sweetly. 

Then Castiel guessed it was the giant red woods in the forest that surely Dean was going to take him to some majestic tree and take his breath away. 

What he had not expected was the sound of waves, knowing they were in an inland area surrounded by mountains. The huge inland sea when he first laid his eyes on it was impressive but the small bent oak tree standing by the water drew him in. It was twisted and gnarled with age, barely taller than a sapling, parts of it looked burnt and broken but the surviving branches were thriving and covered with foliage. The root base of the tree was immense, Castiel traced the twisting shape of them in the undulating field and could not determine by sight alone where the roots ended. 

Wordlessly, Dean watched with his hands in his pockets as Castiel touched his hand to the trunk of the tree. A mist rose from the leaves like a sigh of relief. Tendrils of silver slowly dancing around Castiel, threading into his lungs as his eyes widened. Castiel’s chest heaved as he breathed in the grace strand by strand. 

The sun was setting by the time Castiel had remembered as much as he could, had shared in the memories of the other Castiels one after the other all the way back to the first. It was a concise and selective collection of thoughts and feelings and experiences, for Castiel knew the entirety would be impossible for his mind to accomodate. He liked that all the memories he had chosen to leave himself had Dean in it. 

Dean was sitting with his back to the tree trunk, looking out to the huge lake. Castiel sat down beside him, their elbows touched and Dean turned and wrapped his arm around Castiel’s waist, pushing his face into the worn trench coat. 

“Wait,” he said. 

And Castiel did, warm and complete, with Dean entwined with him. 

The evening grew darker but the forest and the lake grew brighter. The tree of life glistened silver, brighter than the new moon. The lake began to shimmer, a faint suggestion of blue glow at first, growing into a bright and vivid expanse. The mountains glimmered, an embracing encirclement of green twinkling stars. 

“That’s us,” Dean said. 

Castiel turned incredulous eyes to Dean. A stack disc emitted a faint dot of light when it was filled up. The light indicated the presence of a complete set of memories gathered over a lifetime. A human soul in one little indicator light. Castiel’s stack disc light was blue and Dean’s had been green. 

“You’re the lake and I’m the mountains,” Dean laughed softly. “All our used stack disc are kept here, every life we’ve lived together.” 

Castiel reached into his trenchcoat pocket, his fingers touching on the object there. Jack had given it to him, a scrap of metal that had caught his magpie eyes. 

“Would you do me the honour?” Cas handed the broken disc to Dean. It was a newer model, half vapourised in the ship crash. 

Dean looked at the disc, turning it over in his hand, it was all that was left of Michael. 

“I think, deep down, he would want you to do it,” Dean handed the disc back to Castiel, then pulled out a much more cumbersome stack disc from his leather jacket. It had the word ‘CAS’ carved on it. 

“Together then,” Castiel walked up to the edge of the lake and threw Michael’s disc into the water.

It floated for a few meters and began to sink. He thought maybe the light on it, impossibly, blinked on as it reached the bottom of the lake. 

Dean clutched the CAS stack in the palm of his hand. Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean, throwing his weight into the solid warm flesh of his body, rocking him back as he kissed Dean hot and wet on the mouth. 

“I’m right here, I’m not in there,” Castiel said. “I’m with you. Now.” 

Dean let Castiel hold his hand and they tossed the disc into the water together. It skipped a couple of times then glowed bright as it joined the rest in the water. 

“Whatever time we have, we have it,” Castiel said sincerely, peering into Dean’s eyes. 

“Yeah, with you Cas, that don’t seem too long,” Dean nodded. 

They went back to the car, since their bodies could feel the cold and were not impervious to the weather. Dark clouds gathered overhead and a wind was whipping across the water. The impala cruiser was warm, the backseat surprisingly comfortable to stretch out on. Even with the weight of Cas on top of Dean or perhaps because of it. The thing with flesh was that it is intended to be put to use, for violent joy and earthly delight. For the souls to twist and bind themselves enduringly while the fibre of the body rot and regrow. 

“Hey, Cas, stop thinking, stay with me,” Dean panted, grabbing hold of the back of Castiel’s neck, nails scraping against the nodule of his spine. 

“Always,” Castiel shifted, drawing a pleased groan from Dean. 

“Hope you recorded that one for your stack,” Dean’s teasing drifted into a whimper as Castiel clenched his jaw in concentration. 

“You putting on a show for me?” 

“Constantly,” Dean moaned, swallowing as he visibly struggled to form a coherent thought. “Been showing off since we met, hope you’re impressed.” 

Thunder rumbled and the interior of the impala lit up from a nearby lightning strike. Illuminating Dean’s soft mouthed smirk. 

“I’ll give you something to upload,” Castiel said through gritted teeth and angled himself just so. 

The cacophony Dean made was barely drowned out by the sound of the rain pouring down on the car roof. 

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. 
> 
> Anything I’ve missed please let me know. 
> 
> This fic was planned to be 30K but it grew and grew. Sometimes it was daunting and my words felt sparse but overall I’m just glad it’s done. 
> 
> I’m on tumblr: violetlyvanilla

**Author's Note:**

> AI - Artificial Intelligence, computer programs who are sentient and have a sense of identity. AIs control most of the administrative functions on Earth. They also run commercial businesses. Some AIs have emancipated themselves by earning enough funds to buy out their own programming, gaining free will.  
> Angel's Eve/Angel's Rest - There are seven days in a week. Fridays, Saturdays, Sundays, Mondays and Tuesdays are the five work days. Wednesday is a day off for most people. Thursday is the holy day of rest for everyone. Wednesdays and Thursdays are the weekend.  
> Angelic Protectorate/Church - the official church and a religion that most people on Earth follow.  
> Download/Upload - downloading is placing a digitised set of memories into a vessel. Uploading is saving the digitised version of someone.  
> Envoy - specially trained souls who can quickly adapt to their vessels, usually used as soldiers or contract killers by whoever can afford them  
> Fornication Unit / Synths Unit - Fornications is the equivalent of Vice, it targets illegal sex work or other criminal activities for sexual gratification. Synths targets unlicensed drug manufacturing.  
> Exorcism/E&P - Castiel is an Exorcism and Possessions Specialist. He is a specially trained police officer with a code-disruptor embedded in the palms of his hands. He uses this to scramble the code of a vessel's stack. Forces the data to digitally upload. This allows any corrupt data to be cleaned. It also allows the person inside the vessel to leave their current vessel and download into a new one, possibly on another planet. This is also an expedient manner of space travel.  
> Fly-Mobile - slang for a police vehicle. All police vehicles are permitted to fly over metro air-space, above the usual flow of air traffic, for law enforcement.  
> Missionary - A training facility for E&P specialists. The Missionary is a quasi-religious organisation which takes in young cadets and trains them in exorcism. It is affiliated with the Angelic Protectorate.  
> Needlecast - a person's consciousness is digitised and sent to space stations. That data can be downloaded into a vessel so the person is in a new body in a new location.  
> Real death - when a stack is broken before an upload/needlecast is completed. The person's memories are lost and they cannot be resurrected in a new vessel.  
> Vessel - a body, grown in a tank, either designed by someone or hybridised using DNA.  
> Vessel mortgage - bodies are very expensive so most people can only afford to buy one after a life time of working. The vessel is paid off via a loan during the buyer's working life, if the person dies before paying off the sleeve mortgage they do not get to download into a new vessel/live on. Some employers provide insurance which pays for workers who dies in the course of their duties, insurance covers sleeve repair or replacement.  
> Stack - a disc where souls/memories are digitally coded and stored  
> Storage - criminals have their stacks taken out of their vessels as punishment/imprisonment. The stacks are stored until the prison sentence is over whereupon the prisoner is downloaded into a vessel.  
> Synthetics - a body made from synthetic materials, like a robot, not grown in a tank like a vessel. Syntheic suits are inexpensive.  
> Synths - synthetic drugs  
> Visual-feed/audio-feed - Neural implants that work like mobile phones but the user sees and hears the call in their heads


End file.
